We Face Our Fears
by theatricalveggie
Summary: "Peeta pulls her into him. This is practiced. This is familiar. This isn't the first time." This is a companion piece to We Seemed Like a Good Idea. Story consists of chapters and outtakes from other characters' perspectives.
1. Introduction

We Face Our Fears is a companion piece to We Seemed Like a Good Idea. Story consists of chapters and outtakes from other characters' perspectives. I **STRONGLY** suggest you read We Seemed Like a Good Idea first, otherwise, this won't really make sense and will totally spoil the other story for you.

The chapter names in this story indicate the corresponding chapter from We Seemed Like a Good Idea, and whose perspective the story is being told from.

That's it. Enjoy!  
MP


	2. Chapter 2 - Peeta

**CHAPTER 2 - PEETA**

In the morning, we gather around Tigris's television and eat cans of liver pate for breakfast. We catch one of Beetee's updates on the rebellion before the signal is surrendered back to a Capitol reporter, but I divert my eyes. I don't trust what I see anymore, and reports like that just make me anxious. I don't need a stranger to tell me what's happening right in front of me, nor do I trust them to. We can hear the cries of panic from the Capitol refugees outside, scurrying amongst one another in the streets. I catch Katniss peering at them through a crack in the curtains. I feel my eyes glued on her and try to pull them away. It's too confusing being this close to her.

Tigris heads out onto the street to get a sense of what's going on, and our crew makes its way back to the basement. Katniss paces back and forth, and it makes me dizzy tracking her movements from one end of the basement to the other. I see Gale's eyes on her as well, and feel them digging into me when he catches me watching her. I drop my gaze to my hands. It goes on like this for hours. Katniss is lost in thought, the rest of us are quiet. I make idle chat with Cressida, but I've lost my knack for pleasantries. She doesn't know me anyway. She knows Katniss and Gale. I'm the outsider.

When Tigris finally returns in the late afternoon, she brings hot food and information. Everyone digs in ravenously, but I haven't felt hungry in weeks. I remember starving in my cell, but after a while that dull ache just became a part of me. Food makes me feel sick now. Tigris describes the City Circle, packed with refugees trying to find shelter for the night. I push my food around my plate. She says Peacekeepers are going door to door, placing refugees in homes - voluntarily or not.

"Tigris, that could be you," I say. Even this narrow hallway of a shop could be appropriated as numbers swell. Katniss agrees silently. As the sun sets and temperatures plummet, the television anchor reports of hysteria in the crowds. They show the picture of a young boy who was beaten to death after being mistaken for me. I don't think we look anything alike, other than the blonde hair. He was 15. Another child's blood on my hands. I push my wrists harder against the cuffs.

"We will need to go first thing in the morning," Katniss says. "We don't know how much time we have." Everyone nods in agreement at our de facto leader. The group talks some more, but I tune them out. I think about the boy, losing his life in the street. The sheer panic he must have felt, raising his arms to block one blow, only to feel another and another wrench into his body. Watching his own blood spill on the tile. Realizing the futility of it all. Giving up. I've been there, brought to the brink. I've given up. My captors only withdrew so I could suffer another day. He wasn't so lucky.

In my periphery, I see Gale and Katniss's postures shift defensively. I don't know what was said, but neither is happy with the other. Katniss gives him a dirt look, and we retreat to the basement for the evening, each piling into our individual fur cocoons. After Katniss cuffs me to the stairs, she takes the spot next to mine. My heart races in my chest, my pulse hammering a steady throb in my throat. She is so close.

None of us are in for a restful night of sleep. We've all been devastated in one way or another over the last couple days, but we're here for the end game. None of us are naive enough to think we will survive this - just look at the mass of bodies in our wake. But we will all die trying. In the dark I feel Katniss's eyes on me, and I turn my head and meet her gaze. We don't look at each other anymore. It's unsettling in a way I can't describe - maybe not bad, certainly not good. I shift my weight.

"You remembered about the office?" she whispers, with a small smile in the corner of her mouth. This is what she wants to talk about? Something this trivial when we are going to die tomorrow? Why is she even thinking about that? I can't figure out why I ever trusted her. Why I trust her still.

"Yeah, I remember," I reply, my face neutral. I let my mind wander back to that night. It's a pretty clear memory, which is frustrating since it doesn't make any sense. Evidently we managed to slip Capitol surveillance. I'm certain if they had that moment, they'd have distorted into a hellish version of what it once was. Still, I can't figure it out. I remember the feel of her under my lips, but why would we bother if the cameras weren't there?

"You can just ask - real or not real?" she says. I hate this. Relying on her for the truth.

"It's just really confusing. It seemed like it was more than just for show." I feel flustered. Angry. How can I trust her with the truth now when she's lied to me?

"It wasn't supposed to be more than that, but I think we both… I know I felt something." She's more breathing than speaking at this point, but I hear her words. She felt something. They just confuse me more. My anger slips, and now I'm just lost in a mix of hope and bitterness.

"But nothing like that happened again? It just felt so intimate, and I have these memories of you with me on the train," I ramble. Night. Our limbs tangled. Breathing in her hair. Feeling her hands curl in mine.

"I was with you on the train, but nothing happened, Peeta. We just slept." She's quiet, and I don't know whether to keep talking or stop, so I just bite my tongue. "I can't really sleep without you," she whispers.

"I don't sleep either." I don't sleep. I haven't since my capture. I don't know if it's because I'm without her, like she's implying, but I think it more has to do with fearing what I'll see when I close my eyes. I can't look at her anymore, so I stare at the wall. "I haven't slept in months, not really."

Katniss pulls herself up and I instantly stiffen, my body balking away. Every piece of me is taut and on edge. My mind flits unpredictably between images of Katniss trying to kill me and nights on the train. She reaches into her pocket and I flinch, ready for the pain of whatever comes next. Instead, she leans over me with a tiny set of keys, poised to unlock my handcuffs. I retract away from her.

"Katniss, I don't think this is a good idea," I plead desperately.

"I do," she says back. She takes my hands in hers and unclasps the cuffs from my wrists. I rub each of them and roll my hands, trying to get the blood flowing into my fingers again. I am panicked that I'm not restrained. I could hurt her. My head feels fuzzy and unfocused.

"Come here," she says, and lifts her fur blanket up for me. I don't move, I just stare at her body, tiny and vulnerable under the massive fur. "You must be freezing. Your body isn't even really covered, Peeta." She says. I am cold, but I don't trust that either. I haven't been able to regulate my temperature in a while. Maybe I'm not cold at all. "It's like on the train. It's just you and me and sleep." Sleep. The idea of sleep sounds so good. She looks so delicate there, the fur blanket weighing heavily over her. The room is a cacophony of sleeping noises. It's just us.

I slide in next to her. I keep my body straight and rigid, careful not to touch hers. I'm think I'm cold from the damp, frigid basement air, and she breathes under the covers - it's warm, and I feel my body relax into her on its own volition. Like it's familiar. Like we've done this before. Like my body knows what my mind doesn't. Like my body still loves her. My mind struggles with memories that are shiny. I struggle to sort out those that aren't. Nights on the train, Katniss sleeping softly beside me, her arms draped across my chest. She could have killed me then, but she didn't. Instead she just took comfort in me, and I her.

I don't dare to close my eyes with her this close, and I notice her watching me. Not in a dangerous way. Not how she observes prey. She's just… waiting. Memories flash again - Katniss with blood dripping from her hands and bodies at her feet, Katniss poisoning my food, Katniss lying next to me. Katniss smiling at me when she thinks I'm not looking. Katniss stealing a bite of food off my plate. Katniss lacing her fingers through mine, in the dark, where no cameras can see. Katniss screaming and crying at night, chased by monsters in her sleep. Katniss vulnerable, wrapped around me and clinging. Katniss in all her strength, fighting the Careers, fighting the Capitol, fighting for me.

She just lies next to me, giving me space, but I feel a charge of hope vibrating between us. She rolls onto her side and faces me. I panic, but I swallow the lump in my throat and look down at her. Her eyes meet mine. They are stone gray - smooth, solid, steady. I remember losing myself in them. I know I loved her. I know despite every shiny, screwed up memory I have, that I loved her. In a moment, I feel things settle into the familiar. I lift my arm, and she pulls herself into me. She rests her head on my chest, and I listen to her breathe. It's like a quiet symphony, just for me. Without thinking about it, my hand begins unweaving her braid, and I feel her stiffen next to me. She's fighting back tears.

"Is this not okay?" I whisper, pulling back. "I shouldn't have touched your hair."

"It's more than okay, Peeta. It's like old times. It's what you used to do." She pulls herself into me tighter, and the world begins to slip away. There is nothing but her and me.

"And then we'd just sleep?" I say more than ask, letting it pull me under.

"Yeah. And then we'd just sleep." And we do. We both do for the first time in months.

In the night, I feel Katniss stir and I pull her close into me. I am ready to fight away whatever demons are tormenting her, but she stays sleeping, her nose nuzzled into my neck. I can feel her hot breath against my shoulder. We are both filthy and unshowered, and it feels so… intimate. I know the smell of days of sweat on her clothes. I think back to the cave. So many of those memories are a mess now, but her smell is there. It smells like earth. I let it take me over, and I drift back to sleep.

The morning creeps in so quickly. I feel Katniss stretch her body a little, and I pull her into me closer. I need to feel her against me. I need her to keep me here. She breathes into my chest and wraps her arms around me. This feels so right.

"Maybe we should put you back," she whispers. "So we don't have mass panic when no one knows where you are." She has a point. I'm sure Gale would rip me apart if he found me here. I'm not sure I'd stop him.

"Yeah," I agree and I begin to work my way out from our cocoon. The icy air of the basement steals the heat from my skin. I am certainly feeling the temperature shift now. "It's so cold out here," I whisper back as I work the cuffs onto my wrists. She latches me in and covers me with some furs from our pile. _Our_. I haven't used that word in a while.

"I think we have another hour, you should try to sleep some more if you can."

"I don't think I will, but honestly, this is the most rested I've felt in a long time. I feel like my head is clearer." I do. Just sleeping offered my mind a reset. My thoughts seem less confusing. Reality seems less ambiguous. I am present. I am here. She gave me that. I let my eyes drift to her, and for the first time since I came back, I let myself see just how beautiful she is. I could have killed her last night, but she just wanted me to sleep. She risked her life for me. Again. I know I loved her. I think I still do, even if I don't know how. Loving her used to be like breathing. In this moment, I feel that again.

"Did you sleep okay?" I ask her.

"Yeah," she smiles back at me. "I actually slept."

"No nightmares?"

"You remember my nightmares?" she asks.

"I do. Part way through the night you stirred, and I instinctively prepared myself to comfort you, but you just stayed asleep. It felt so familiar, and then I remembered. I remembered talking to you, stroking your hair, rubbing your back. I remember you curling up in my lap."

"Yeah, that sounds about right."

"Did I get them too? I don't remember that in reverse," I ask.

"You did, but you never woke me up. You once told me your nightmares were always about losing me, and when you woke up with me next to you, that was all you needed," she replies.

"My nightmares are still about losing you." I confess. And it's true. We look at each other for a moment. She reaches out and touches my face. I flinch, just for a second, but then I feel her tiny, calloused fingers stroke my cheek and I relax into her. I turn my head and place my lips against her palm. It's not a kiss, but it's intimate. I breathe into her hand. "I'm so sorry, Katniss."

A look of determination overtakes her face, and I watch Katniss's mind shift back to why we are here. War.

"We should get ready," she says. I nod.


	3. Chapter 6 - Haymitch

**Chapter 6 - Haymitch**

Absolute chaos erupts. I see Katniss and Peeta struggling, Katniss ripped away by Peacekeepers, or whatever we call them now. I see Effie lift the Reaping Bowl over her head and smash it into the ground. A thousand shards of crystal fly in every direction. _That's my girl_ , I think in my head, and rush toward her. Coin's body lay sprawled out on the ground. Katniss's arrow stands erect in her chest like a flagless pole. What a fitting metaphor.

I reach Effie and drag her away. The last thing I need is Effie trampled to death as the crowd surges forward toward the stage. Her eyes dart around frantically. "Peeta! Peeta!" she calls out, and I see him flank her other side. The two of us pull her into the mansion.

Peeta is wild. "Where are they taking her? What's going on? Haymitch, they're going to kill her!"

I have no answers. I have no idea what's going on. "Maybe, kid, but not right away. She's probably the safest she could be now, in custody. If kill her for this, it won't be behind closed doors. It will be public."

This isn't exactly comfort, but we all know I'm right. We calm down.

"Did you know?" he asks as he stares me down. My non-answer is all the answer he needs. He shrugs in defeat. "We need a plan," Peeta says, and I nod my head. Once again, Effie and I need to get Katniss out of the Capitol's grasp alive. Peeta is frustrated stuck on the outside with us. The kid never would have made it as a mentor, but for now, we need to find a safe place to talk. "Dammit, I ignored her for days. She was trying to tell me, but I couldn't get past my anger over the vote. Dammit!" The calm is short-lived, and he throws a small table into the opposite wall of the hallway where we linger. It fractures with an unexpectedly loud crash. The old Effie would have jumped back, but she's so much more resilient than she used to be. I want to wrap her in my arms, but that's not the priority right now.

"We need to find out where she is," I say, and Peeta nods. The three of us rush down the hall, Effie's heels clicking all the way.

Our first stop is Plutarch's office. With Coin gone, I have no idea who is running things, but this fat puppeteer is a good a place to start as any. Surprisingly, he's in. The three of us file in after his secretary grants us access to his office. Plutarch is on the phone, and gestures for us to take a seat.

"No, the Games are cancelled indefinitely. On my own authority. Just give me a few hours to figure something out. Oh, and I want to see Paylor. Have her come to my office." He hangs up the receiver and greets us with a congenial smile. He's not acting as though his President has just been assassinated.

"Haymitch, Effie, Peeta! What can I do for you?" He gestures with open arms. Peeta is on edge. I can see the kid reeling, trying to stay in reality, but he just watched Katniss kill someone, and try as he might, there are shiny memories gleaming at the surface that he needs to put away. I see Effie take his hand, and she anchors him to the office.

"What's going on with Katniss?" I ask. Blunt. To the point.

"Katniss has been taken into custody. They are holding her in the old Tribute Center. She will be well-cared for, but the Justice Ministry is working now on drafting criminal charges against her – most notably treason. Our on laws on these infractions have not been formally defined, but I can assure you treason is a dire offense," Plutarch explains.

"You can't be serious, Plutarch. Anyone can see the girl is out of her mind. She's in shock. She's clearly got a litany of psychological problems after two Games and a war. We can't possibly hold her accountable for her actions," I say. I need to find her sponsors. Advocates. People who can testify that she's a stark-raving lunatic.

"She looked lucid, Haymitch. Controlled even," Plutarch replies. For being Coin's right hand man, Plutarch doesn't seem to be upset at all by her death. He's just focused on the next chapter. I'm about to defend her when he states coolly, "We'll need a professional to explain that away for us."

Oh. Plutarch is on our side. He sees an advantage to keeping Katniss alive. Free. It folds into his end game. I don't care his motivation; he's just joined the us that is defending Katniss.

"I'll need you to excuse me, I have a great deal of work to do. Please make an appointment with my secretary for mid-next week. We'll chat then." With a wave of his hand Plutarch excuses us from his office.

We are all at a loss on what to do next. Peeta tries to find out if he can visit her, but all his requests are denied. She is under solitary confinement, and no visitors are permitted. Effie speaks to Peeta's doctor, Aurelius, and he agrees to testify on her behalf. He's never directly assessed Katniss. No one has. But based on his extensive study of her through his work with Peeta, he feels confident he can undermine any premise that Katniss calculated this whole mess.

Her trial comes quickly. Katniss will not be permitted to attend. The government presents their case. It's weak and poorly thought out at best. They have her on camera killing Coin. That piece is undeniable. The whole nation saw it. But their case almost plays to our advantage. Her motive – stopping the Games. They try to twist her as power hungry and ungrateful, but in the end she comes across as compassionate. They show video of the assassination, but easily in view are masses of crying, terrified children who are saved by Katniss's arrow.

The prosecution calls me and Peeta to testify. The defense has Peeta dismissed. They argue lingering side effects of his hijacking could falsely color any testimony he might offer. Both the prosecution and Peeta are frustrated by this. When I take the stand, I feel like I'm walking to sit with Caesar Flickerman for my interview before the Games. I shake the thought from my mind and focus. Like I'm seventeen again.

"Mr. Abernathy, how did Miss Everdeen vote - for or against the Games?" the prosecutor asks. He is from the Capitol. His suit is a charcoal gray, and I think of 12.

"I thought the content of that meeting was supposed to be proprietary. That's what Coin told us. That the vote was secret," I reply.

"There were no classifications placed on those meeting transcripts. A simple request for records would bring the content to light. I can do that, if you so choose," he replies coolly. I'm cornered.

"Katniss was upset. Her behavior was inconsistent. She started the meeting screaming at Coin. Crying for Prim. Coin coaxed her pain into a need for vengeance."

"Objection, speculation," the prosecutor states. The judge nods his head. I'm not sure if that means keep going, or stop, but the prosecutor waives his hand and I continue.

"Katniss voted for the Games." The room flares up in a clamor, and the judge silences the gallery.

"And how did you vote, Mr. Abernathy?" I want a drink.

"I voted with Katniss." What was chatter before is now shouts of outrage. Reporters and observers alike are yelling questions or crying out in protest. Peeta sinks in his seat. Once again, the judge settles the room, but it's too late. I see my opening to undermine their whole case and I take it. "It doesn't make much sense, does it?" I lead. I wait for him to walk into my snare. Maybe I did listen during Gale's lessons, what feels like ages ago. I can't believe they are this stupid.

"What's that, Mr. Abernathy?"

"Well, you describe Katniss as cold. Calculating. That she planned this execution to stop the Games. That was her entire motive. But how was that her motive if she voted for it?" They brought up her vote to lose her sympathy. To make the people of Panem hate her. Now, they either have to backtrack their entire case, or explain why she'd vote for the Games without making her sound crazy. The prosecution clearly doesn't know about the parachutes, or when Snow died. They can't explain her vote. Either they concede she's crazy, or they have no motive. Either will destroy their case for treason.

"I'm saying she was totally out of it in that meeting. She didn't know what she was saying. If she was the cold-blooded assassin you make her out to be, she would have killed Coin then and there. It wouldn't take much for a Victor with nothing left to lose, but that's not what was happened." I breathe. I'm on a roll now. "Katniss has been incoherent for months. Ever since she lost her little sis. Really, ever since Peeta was captured. She's been holding by a thread, but when she saw Prim die in that explosion, Katniss lost her mind." I look him squarely in the face. "I'd love to pretend she's every bit as clever as you are making her out to be, but at the end of the day, she's a scared, helpless kid. There was no plot. There was no plan. She was the product of the Games, the product of a war she didn't ask to fight but chose to lead. A child soldier who got scared and overreacted. The way an irrational, crazy person would."

The prosecutor stares at me bitterly. It's not my fault he's an idiot. I'm excused. I hope I did enough.

The defense's case is exhaustive. I track down witnesses from 13 to testify about Katniss being labelled "mentally disoriented." We find staff to attest to the times they found her in closets or vents, muttering to herself and rocking back and forth. Plutarch goes on and on about coaxing her through the propos like she was some sort of invalid. How in reality she was less composed than they made her out to be, and that it was only his genius craftsmanship that made her look like the hero she was. Cressida tells about how Katniss shut down when Snow dropped the roses on 13. Even Katniss's mother gets on the stand and testifies to a history of depression in her family that leaves people catatonic. It's actually kind of sad. I can tell she's ashamed, but she'll do anything to keep the only daughter she has left alive.

The nail in the coffin is Dr. Aurelius. His scientific testimony is unparalleled. Effie was right about him. By the end, I'm convinced Katniss actually is a lunatic, not that we are portraying her as one. Peeta spends every day in the courthouse. He's miserable, but he can't pull himself away. In some odd way, it makes him feel close to her. I understand that.

Late that night, my phone rings. Effie stirs beside me and drapes her arm across my chest. I roll over to reach across and pull the phone from my nightstand.

"Yeah?" I grumble into the receiver.

"Haymitch, we need you at the Tribute Center. Come alone." I look over at Effie and pull myself out from under her arm. I scrawl a quick note and leave it on her nightstand, pull on some pants, and go.

The Tribute Center isn't far. Plutarch meets me in the lobby. "Seriously, Plutarch, you need to work on your evening voice. That wasn't sexy at all," I start to joke with him, but the look on his face quickly shuts me up. He brings me into a surveillance room on the first floor. I knew the Tribute Center was bugged, but there are televisions on every wall. Most are dark, but the section labelled 12 is lit. There is a black and white closed circuit picture playing across the screen, and I see her. Katniss is lying in the bed. She looks skinny, and almost posed.

"She tried to kill herself," Plutarch says to me, and I fight to keep the contents of my stomach down. I squat to me knees, holding on to the edge of a table, suddenly too overwhelmed to keep standing. "She's alright," he tells me. "Her stomach was pumped her she'll see no permanent side effects, at least not physically."

"We need to get her out of there," I say.

"I know," Plutarch replies.

Suddenly Katniss stirs and my eyes shoot back to the screen. She touches her face, her body, her hair. She shoots up in bed and looks around frantically. "WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR?" she screams. "COME ON! COME AND GET ME!" She pounds her fists into the bed and tears it apart. She beats a pillow until feathers burst out. She drops to the floor in exhaustion, and just when I think she's going to go back to sleep she sweeps her arms and legs up and down in the feathers, like I've seen kids do in the snow.

It's like she's in the Arena again, and I'm helpless just watching her. Trying to get her out, trying to help her survive, with no guarantee it's going to work. I can't lose her now. Not after all this.

Suddenly, her voice slips through her lips, shaking but warm.

 _Deep in the meadow, under the willow_ _  
 _A bed of grass, a soft green pillow_  
 _Lay down your head, and close your sleepy eyes_  
 _And when again they open, the sun will rise.__

She cycles through song after song. The lullaby for Rue. The Hanging Tree. Songs I don't recognize and others I do. I've been trying to convince the outside world she's crazy, but maybe it's not a lie. Maybe she is.

She needs out.

Plutarch phones the judge and an emergency session is called in his chambers. The defense waived the right to a jury trial, so it's just the judge, lawyers, Plutarch, and me. Our entire case lies in the hands of the judge. The tapes are played for him. I feel sick watching him watch her as she strips her clothes off. Crawls in the tub. Downs the pills. Sings. This is private. This isn't for his eyes. I wouldn't stoop to this level. This is Plutarch's doing. I'm fuming, but I wonder if this is a necessary evil.

"She's just a child," the judge finally says, ripping his eyes away when he can take no more. Her voice echoes in the room for just a moment longer as the sound is pulled back into the television.

Arrangements are made. Katniss will go back to 12. I'll accompany her. She'll undergo tele-therapy with Dr. Aurelius. She's forbidden from leaving the district. Afterward, Plutarch pulls me aside. He tells me of the unrest in 13. That people there are angry about Coin. Angry at Katniss.

"I pushed for you to be her guardian in there because you know 12. I need you to protect her. It's the safest place for her. You know the people; you'll know if anything is… off. This fragile democracy is still rooted in her. They need to see the Mockingjay grow up. Heal. Move on. But mostly, they need to see her live, so they can see it's OK for them to go on living too."

I go back to my room and pack my things. Effie sits on the bed, stalwart. She keeps her posture up, but it's killing me to leave her here. I entreat her to come, but she just shakes her head. "Peeta is still here. One of us needs to keep an eye on him." I know she's right.

I take her face in my hands, and kiss her mouth softly. "You come find me, Effie Trinket." She smiles and excuses herself from the room.

Last, I collect Katniss. I travel the well-worn path to her room. Our room. The room for the tributes of 12, because when it boils down to it, that's all we ever are once our name is pulled. She eyes me warily, not quite believing I'm here. I want to throw my arms around her, but I keep my distance. She wouldn't want that.

"Your trial's over. Come on. We're going home." I take her hand and she meanders out barefoot. I lead her to the roof, and we duck inside the hovercraft. I buckle her in, and try to drown out Plutarch's prattle, which is substantially more challenging without white liquor. He catches her up on all the things she's missed. I half listen as I watch the Capitol shrink behind us. As I leave Effie behind, again. I catch Katniss scowling at Plutarch, and it makes me smile. She's still got spunk.

When we finally reach 12, the hovercraft lands in the middle of Victor's Village. Katniss is still barefoot and in her pajamas, despite the cold snap of fall air blowing through. She ambles up to her door and I follow her inside.

"Everything's pretty much how it was. I'll give you some time to settle in, sweetheart." I squeeze her shoulder but hesitate at the door. I keep seeing her drown in the bathtub.

"Can I leave you alone here, Katniss? Do you want to come home with me?" She laughs, and I'm not sure what to make of it. Laughing's good… I guess. "I'll see you in a few hours, then. For dinner." I close the door behind me and cross to my house. It's cold. Empty. Just how I like it, or how I used to like it. I find Sae. I called her before I left for 12, so she knew we were coming. I dig through my house, find all the white liquor I've hidden, and dump it down the toilet. I haven't drank anything since District 13, but that doesn't make this any easier. Distance from addiction does make me any less of an addict. But right now, I need to focus on keeping that girl alive, and I can't do that if my mind is swimming in booze. Sae and I bring dinner to Katniss's, but she's too lost in grief to eat. I let her alone for tonight, but I don't sleep. I listen for her. I wait.

The next morning, I nurse a cup of coffee and head to Katniss's. Sae is already there, cooking up a feast I'm sure Katniss won't touch. I kneel on the kitchen stool and spy the potatoes she is frying with peppers and onions. I sneak a piece when she turns her head, but Sae quickly swats my hand with a wooden spoon and I retreat.

"Dear God, woman!" I cry out as I rub my knuckles. I cling to my coffee and I think I hear Katniss's feet on the stairs. When she sits behind me at the bar I finally breathe.

"Coffee?" Sae asks, and she nods her head. She doesn't look at Sae, or me, or anything really.

"Where's Peeta?" she asks quietly.

"He's in the Capitol still. He is in therapy with Dr. Aurelius. He hasn't been cleared for travel yet." I tell her. I try to keep my voice soft, but I just sound stupid. Fake. I've never been paternal. She just nods her head automatically.

"Where's my mom?" she asks, her voice breaking. That one is harder. Peeta can't be here. He screamed and begged when they said no. Her mom chose not to come.

"She couldn't do it, sweetheart. There are too many memories here," I try to take her hand, but she sees through all of it and withdraws. She pretends to eat Sae's food, but really she just pushes the eggs around her plate. Sometimes people forget Katniss is just a girl. And a girl needs her mother. I feel resentment toward her for leaving. I remember her mother's testimony describing what happened after Katniss's father died. I try to dig up some of that sympathy back up, but it's useless. Katniss is a kid. Her mom should be here.

"I'm not really hungry," Katniss finally says and excuses herself from the table.

We do this most mornings. Sae making breakfast. Me dragging myself to Katniss's house, despite the fact I'd sleep the whole day if left to my own devices. She gets worse. I feel like a failure. I've kept her alive, but what kind of life is she leading? She doesn't shower, or brush her hair. Her skin flakes away from her body. She stares at walls and wanders. I feel helpless. I just try to be present. It's all I know how to do.

When Spring comes, something changes in her. She goes to the woods. She comes back to us a little. Then one day, I see Peeta walking down the path to Victor's Village. I bound out of my house and wrap him in my arms. I go back to my house to let him settle in, but instead I watch as he drags bushes into Katniss's yard. I watch him dig. I watch her come over the hill, and stop when she sees him. I watch her approach, full of caution, but also hope. I see them exchange words, and I see her wrap herself around the boy. His hands fret at her sides, but she must whisper something to him because they instantly wrap themselves in hers. They stand there for a long time. I close my curtains and smile.


	4. Chapter 10 - Peeta

**Chapter 10 - Peeta**

Katniss is still up in her room with Haymitch while Effie and I mull around in the kitchen. No one answered the receiver when I picked it up, but Katniss looked like she'd heard a ghost. I can hear Haymitch talking to her, and I know right now she needs him, not me. I clean up dinner, run the counter over with a cloth. I lean back on the counter and wait.

"I'm sure she will be fine, Peeta," Effie says, and slowly extricates the cloth I have been unconsciously wringing from my hands. I shake my fingers out and let my hands fall uselessly at my sides.

"Why don't I walk you home?" I ask.

"Always the gentleman!" Effie chirps back. I offer my arm and take Effie out into the night air. Her house is only a few down, but we stroll lazily arm-in-arm. "When I was a little girl, my family lived on the edge of the City." Effie confides. I don't think I've ever heard Effie talk about her family. "I hated it. I wanted to be in the bustle of it all, and the world felt so far away. Times as they were! One night, when I was particularly callous to my father about our predicament, I climbed onto the roof."

"You didn't!" I say. I can't picture Effie being rude, much less climbing something.

"Youthful indiscretions. It was summer and the night was still burning hot. My father climbed up behind me and said, 'Effie Trinket, I know I can't give you the lights of the city, but I can still give you the lights of the stars.'" She looks at me and confides, "You can't see the stars in the Capitol, but our house was far enough away that the starlight pierced through."

I remember that. Being on the roof of the Training Center, and the whole sky too brightly lit by city for the stars to be visible. It made Katniss feel lonely.

"We laid on the roof, my father and I, and he named the constellations for me," she says. I look at her, confused. She explains. "Before the Dark Days, they used to name the stars. See that bright star right there?" She points her finger, and I see one star shining brighter than all the rest. "That used to be called Vega. And those little ones next to it make a head, and those there make the body."

"The head and body of what?" I ask.

"A lute. They used to call those stars Lyra. My father said it played such beautiful music…"

"...The birds would stop singing," I finish for her. She smiles at me as we reach her door. "Thank you for escorting me home, Peeta. Do get some sleep."

"Good night, Effie," I turn to walk away, when she stops me. "Peeta!"

I turn back. "Yeah?"

"When I was in my cell, I used to stare at the ceiling and name the stars." She's quiet. "If you ever need to speak about what happened to you, I'm here. I'm stronger than I look."

I nod my head to her. "Thanks, Effie." I give her a grateful smile.

Effie turns and closes the door behind her, muttering "my charming boy" under her breath.

Sleep doesn't come that night, but not for the usual reasons. At first I'm up worrying about Katniss, but as the night drags on I don't feel right. My body begins to ache. I feel like I need to throw up, but can't. I put on my leg and slowly make my way to the bathroom. I fill a cup with lukewarm water from the sink and drink it slowly. I want to lie on the bathroom floor, but my body hurts too much. My chest feels like its burning from the inside when I breathe too deep. I throw a towel in the bottom of my bathtub and crawl inside.

Hours later, I hear Effie twittering my name from the kitchen. When I don't reply, I hear her heels click on the stairs. "Peeta? Are you still in bed?"

"In here," I reply, and she hovers outside my door.

"Peeta, a lady doesn't go into a young boy's bathroom. Are you alright in there?"

"I'm fine." I shrug. "I think I'm sick."

"Well, come out here at once, let me get a look at you," she orders. I put my hands on the edge of the tub and heave myself up. It is absolutely exhausting. I stumble out, a bit dizzy, and drop onto the bed. Effie brushes my forehead with the back of her hand. "My goodness, you are burning up! I'll go to Katniss's and get some fever pills. Stay here." As if I could move anywhere. I doze off before Effie leaves the room, but when she returns she insists I go to Katniss's.

"Katniss and Haymitch are both as miserable as you are. And it's easier to move you there than to bring them here." With an unexpected amount of force, Effie hauls me out of bed.

"You are stronger than you look," I tease pitifully.

Katniss and Haymitch look as dismal as I feel. Effie finds a spare blanket and wraps it around me. Katniss moves over on the couch and rests her head on the armrest. I mirror her on the other side. Our legs tangle in the middle of the couch, and even just feeling her hot skin on my legs is comforting. I'm pretty sure there is no chance I could hurt her right now, and I allow myself to relax a little. Besides, Haymitch is right there on the chair. I can't seem to stay awake, but I don't really sleep either. Everything hurts. A kettle whistles on the stove, and Effie forces fever pills and tea into the three of us. Sae shows up, and Effie makes another round of tea from herbs from the Meadow. I'm feeling surprisingly better, and can even manage to eat some soup. That's when we hear a crash from the kitchen. I'm on my feet immediately, but Haymitch is already in the kitchen before I even cross the threshold between rooms.

Haymitch is cradling Effie in his arms, rocking. "Stupid woman. Stupid stupid," Haymitch curses. "Come on, sweetheart. Come on, wake up."

Effie comes to almost immediately, and looks woozily up at Haymitch, "Mr. Abernathy, your breath is atrocious."

We all laugh. We force fever pills and tea and soup into Effie, and then Katniss tells her and Haymitch to go upstairs and take her mom's bed. They oblige and make their way up the stairs slowly, leaning on each other.

"Come on," she says, taking my hand and leading me up the stairs. I'm not quite sure where she's taking me, until we reach the top of the stairs and I'm facing Prim's door. My stomach hurts. I can't. I can't do this.

"I honestly don't think I can sleep in there, Katniss. I think I'd rather just stay on the couch." I say quickly, tripping over my words.

"Don't be silly. You are staying with me." She opens her bedroom door and heads inside. This is a bad idea. It was okay downstairs, in front of everyone, but here... We haven't slept together since… since Tigris's basement. My head starts pounding, and I'm not sure if it's the flu, or my mind, but I can't be this close to her without my body betraying me, one way or another.

"I'll just go home, Katniss. It's fine."

"It's not fine. You are sick, and so am I. Let's just sleep."

The idea of sleep sounds so appealing. My nights have been restless, and the last 24 hours have taken a lot out of me. I just want to close my eyes. My feet move on their own and follow her into the bedroom. Katniss steps into the bathroom, and I decide to wait for her in bed. I take off my leg and pull myself under her covers. This whole room smells like her.

There are certain pieces of Katniss the Capitol couldn't touch. They had her voice, her image – but they didn't have her taste. Her smell. They couldn't change how soft her skin is, how smooth her hair feels between my fingers. It anchors me to her, when I feel myself slipping. When my pulses rages and my mind contracts, her mouth on mine will keep me grounded in reality. The taste of her lips. The scent of her skin. I know I nothing dangerous will happen tonight. Enveloped here, in her smell, the shiny memories fade. Wakefulness fades, I feel safe… and I drift off.

Hours pass, and I come to sleepily. I've forgotten where I am, until I hear Katniss breathing gently behind me. Before I can help it, my body stiffens under the weight of her arm. Her entire body is pressed against me, her arm drapes across my waist, and my heart leaps to my throat. She must be awake, must have felt the tension, because I feel her pull away. I roll over to face her.

"I think I should go downstairs," I whisper.

"Maybe," she whispers back sleepily.

"Katniss?" I say. My heart is pounding; shiny, swirly memories surfacing and retreating. I can't think straight.

"Mmhmm?" she mumbles back, her eyelids drooping. I need to stay here. I need to stay anchored in this moment. In this bed, with her.

"Can I kiss you?"

She's wide awake now. Her eyes flash to meet mine, and then, unbelievably, she whispers, "Okay."

I wait for a second. So does Katniss. I slowly inch my body forward until our front sides are pressed together. It feels intimate. It feels safe. It feels _here_. My heart continues to throb in my chest, but a new passion is taking root. Not fear, but anticipation. I rest one hand on her waist, and feel her smooth skin exposed at the seam of her shirt. I slip my fingers underneath and slowly caress her hip. She leans into me. I take my other hand and cup her face. I slide my thumb gently over her lips, and it reminds me of time in my cell when I'd relive the moment on the beach over and over again in my mind. When they hurt me, I'd just go to the beach. Thinking about my time in the Capitol makes me feel erratic again. I need her to keep me here. I lean forward and press my mouth onto hers. The shiny memories slip away.

Her lips are on fire with fever. I move slowly, deliberately. I try to take in every curve of her mouth, the feel of her against me. The taste of her toothpaste, the smell of her soap. At first her lips are still, but almost soon her mouth is moving with mine, and my stomach flips. I'm not just kissing her, she is kissing me back. Everything about her feels like it's burning, and I grasp my hand tighter on her hip. She moans into my mouth and I'm ecstatic. I never thought I'd be here with her, like this. Not after what happened. I open my eyes and meet hers. I feel like we never stopped loving each other, in our difficult, complicated way. I feel like we are there in the cave, we are pressed in the snow, we are there on the beach, we are reliving every beautiful, messed up moment right here. This isn't for the cameras. This kiss is real.


	5. Chapter 13 - Peeta

The ringing phone pierces into my sleep and pulls me into waking. I'm so tired, and my head feels muffled, yet at the same time sharp pains stab through. I stretch my body out and that's when I feel her. Her weight, pressed into me. Katniss wraps her arms around me tight, keeping me from moving. "Don't," she whispers, entreating me to stay with her. I'm so confused.

"Katniss, why are you here?" Suddenly, the revelation of last night hits me like a ton of bricks. It is so frustrating, being unable to reconcile even more memories. It's a blur. Paint, blood, rain. Katniss, trying to kill me. Katniss, pulling me back. On my floor. How could I let this happen? I could have killed her. How am I still this close to her, alone? I am instantly on my feet, pulling away from her, when I feel a certain agony burn at my leg and I scrunch my face in pain.

"What? What is it?" She asks, leaping to her feet with a guilty look plastered on her face.

I try to brush her off. "It's nothing… It's just my leg." It's been bad for days, but I've been too in my head to take care of it. I usually take my leg off when I sleep, but since Effie left, since my fight with Katniss, since seeing Gale leave her house… I haven't been sleeping. I wander the house. I paint the nightmares I'm avoiding. I try not to, but I end up limping to the chair before I drop into it.

"Let me help," Katniss offers, and squats on her knees in front of me. She has streaks of red paint all over her body. They splash up her bare legs and my eyes linger. She concentrates on the task at hand, rolling my pajama pants up and exposing where my prosthetic meets the remainder of what used to be my leg. The skin underneath is raw and peeking out. Her fingers hover, and embarrassment burns inside me. This is stupid and self-inflicted. I have enough wounds I can't hide, I don't want to always be the broken one she feels obligated to fix. "Oh, Peeta, this is more than one night."

"I haven't been sleeping. I just forget." I say as I glue my eyes to the wall.

She places her hands on the release and my heart jumps to my throat. "Can I?" she asks. I simply nod my head and she releases the prosthetic. The relief is overwhelming, and I can feel my body exhale. The stump is pretty bad. I hadn't looked at it until now, and it's raw and open. I wonder how I managed on it for days, but my tolerance for pain is subjective since my captivity. Since the Games, really.

"I need to go home," she says, and I can feel the disappointment run in a wave across my body. I know she should go, objectively I know that. I'm not someone who can take care of her. I'm just weak, and injured, and broken, just like she is. Why would she stay? "For some herbs and medicines," she adds. "I'll be right back." Relief overwhelms me. I don't know why I always jump to the worst conclusion. I'm still feeling lingering elements from our fight, but clearly she has memories of us together last night that I don't. It's too much to hope she's moving a step toward me. I need to keep myself in check.

She crosses to the door and hesitates. "Could I, maybe, borrow some pants?"

I grin as I realize she's still only dressed in a long night shirt and nothing else. "Sure," I reply, and gesture to his stairs. I can't go up them right now. I don't even think I could stand. Katniss bounds up to my room. I look around and take in the space. A catalog is open on the table. One of my dining room chairs is splintered into shards. There is red paint everywhere. All over me, all over the floor, the walls. The couch isn't where it was before. This isn't safe. I've been too easy on myself. Letting Katniss creep her way back in. Chastising her for being wary of being with me. What was I thinking? I still don't have control. I shouldn't be pushing her.

Katniss flies back down the stairs wearing a pair of my pajama pants. She's out the door before I can say good-bye. Before I can say any of the things I should. I grab my leg and strap it back on. I bite my lip as I pull the grips tight, and I can taste blood in my mouth as I bear my weight standing. I think of the beach, I think of the beach, and I let the pain go.

I grab a broom and dust pan from the kitchen and drag in a garbage bin. I begin tossing the larger pieces of the chair into the bin, and use the broom to sweep up the splinters. I get a bucket of hot water and a soapy cloth and begin wiping away the streaks of blood red paint from my walls. I turn on some fans to help with the heat, but it's muggy and even this small effort has me sheened with sweat. I wonder what she's doing over there. If Johanna is there, or Gale. I push the thought from my head. After this small effort I collapse back into the chair. I remove my leg and lean back.

Katniss returns a short time later with a small container of medicine. I feel my face brighten when she enters the room, and internally chastise myself for it.

"This should help a lot. My mom got it from Madge. It's from the Capitol." She says as she bends forward and rubs the sticky ointment into my leg. I involuntarily sigh with relief, and I see Katniss blush.

"That feels nice," I add, smiling at her. I lean back and close my eyes. "Did you and Gale talk?" I ask with my eyes still shut. I try to play it as nonchalantly as I can manage, but I know the tone to my voice is not entirely convincing.

"I have no interest in talking to Gale. He shouldn't have come here." She dismisses the idea, puts the jar of medicine on the table, and avoids looking at me. I know there's a lot she's not telling me. I know he hurt her, and she doesn't trust herself around him. I know what that's like.

"I don't know what happened, Katniss, but he was your best friend. Maybe you should hear what he has to say," I say.

"You're my best friend, Peeta," She says back, looking me directly in the eye.

A smile creeps across my face I cannot suppress. "I did say _was_." She should go, but how do I ask her to leave after that? I'm going to be incapacitated most of the day anyway. I can't hurt her if I can't move. "So, what do you want to do today? I think I'm gonna be stuck in this chair." I'm selfish. I just want her here.

"I want to make a page. For Madge."

She writes most of the afternoon. I spend hours sketching Madge holding a basket of strawberries. She's smiling shyly at her dad. Madge and I used to play as kids, back when her dad was just a merchant and had yet to be appointed mayor. I try to make her look older, but I just see the five-year old girl who struggled to tie her shoes. I sketch her face, her eyes deep and lonely and kind. It breaks my heart, but in a way it helps me heal. When Haymitch shows up, he looks at our work and is quiet for a long time.

"This is where Maysilee's page should go," he says.

"Absolutely," Katniss replies, and takes his hand. She's changed so much. She's so much more open. My phone rings again. Now that both Haymitch and Katniss have ripped their phones from their walls, all calls for any of us come here. It's nice. Sometimes I talk to her mom for hours before calling Katniss over.

"I'll get it," Katniss says as she crosses the room. I'm grateful. The throbbing in my leg is slowly coming back. "Hello?"

I don't need to hear the conversation to know who it is. The high-pitched tone of Effie Trinket is hard to mistake, even through a receiver a dozen feet away.

"It's for you," she says and holds out the receiver for Haymitch. I smile. Haymitch sits listening to Effie with a stupid grin on his face, and I turn my attention back to Katniss.

"Remind me not to squeal," she insists as we hear the receiver shriek. I can't help but laugh. "Don't get mad, but I invited Johanna for dinner."

I'm not mad. It's good. I need to see Johanna, especially after last night. And it's another human barrier between me and Katniss, which clearly I need right now. "We should probably ask Gale," I say back.

"Ugh, why?" she replies, rolling her eyes. I give her a crooked smile. I can't help but find some joy in her distaste for him, but I remind myself that we've all made sacrifices, and we all need to heal.

"Because what's he going to do, Katniss? Sit in his house alone?"

"Okay. Well, I need to go get some things for dinner anyway. I'll just stop by and ask him."

"Good," I smile at her. Her eyes give me an irritated glare, but the hint of a smile on her lips gives her away. She needs to mend things with Gale. She needs him in her life. I can't encourage her to push him away, even though I want her for myself. I know whatever he did must have been awful for her to surgically remove him from her life like she did, but I hope they can rebuild the friendship they once had. She's only going to repair her heart with help from all of us. She nods and ducks out the door.

I hope this wasn't a mistake.


	6. Chapter 14 - Peeta

Katniss leaves to go ask Gale to dinner, and I begin prepping for the meal. I drag a stool into the kitchen so I can work without my leg on. The ointment Katniss brought over really is working wonders, but I still think it will be days before I'm completely back to normal. I know Katniss said she needed to get some things at the Market, so I'll work on side dishes for tonight. I decide to make garlic knot bread. I stretch out the dough on the counter and roll it out "like a snake" as my dad taught me when I was little. I slice it into small portions and tie them each in loose knots. While I let them rise, I grate some garlic and infuse it into butter on the stove. I then brush the surface of the bread with the garlic butter and throw it in the oven. I hope the heat from the stove dissipates before my guests arrive. Baking on a hot summer day. Maybe I didn't think this through… Oh well, it's too late now. I quickly chop up a green salad and mix a vinaigrette out of vinegar, sugar, oil, salt, and pepper. I set all this in the refrigerator to cool as Johanna Mason walks in my door.

"Hey lover boy," she says, and rushes in to throw her arms around me. It doesn't phase her to see me without my leg. She's seen me in much worse positions than this. The Capitol confiscated my leg after I attacked one of the guards that hurt Johanna. The next day they beat me unconscious with it. It still felt like a win. The only reason I even had it on during the rescue was there was so much commotion after my last Capitol broadcast the guards didn't have time to take it off. There is something freeing about being around the other captured Victors – Johanna particularly. I don't have to hide the worst parts of me. Any parts of me. Johanna plops herself onto my lap and I try to balance us precariously on the stool.

"Hey Johanna. It's so good to see you." I squeeze her tight. For a long time after captivity, Johanna was the only person I'd let touch me, and vice versa. I remember Haymitch trying to take my hand in 13, while I was restrained, and my entire body recoiled away from him. I couldn't move my hand, but he knew immediately he'd crossed a line and pulled away. The rest of our visits he kept a distance from me, but he never stopped coming. For what felt like ages, any human contact hurt. Any contact except Johanna. It was like my body wasn't used to it. "Of course, you didn't have to bring him along with you," I half-heartedly gripe, referring to Gale.

"Oh, cut him a break, Peet. He's hurting too," she teases, and opens my pantry spying for food.

"Johanna, we are going to be eating soon," I chide.

"So?" she says, and pulls out a jar of raw honey and hops onto my counter. She could sit in a chair, but she's Johanna.

"I asked Katniss to invite Gale to dinner," I say, resting my head on her knee. I'm still so tired.

"Good. That was good of you to do," she says as she sucks honey from her finger. "I know Katniss blames him for what happened, but it can't be worse than what he's put himself through."

I nod like I know what she's talking about, but Katniss hasn't told me about any of it yet. I know she's not keeping it from me. She's clearly just not ready to talk about it at all. I can wait.

"I thought she'd be back sooner," I say, trying to not let the jealousy ring too obvious in my tone.

"Oh, I saw her and Gale headed down to Town."

"Good," I say. I mean it. Sort of. I lean my head back on her leg and close my eyes. We sit there quietly, Johanna eating all my honey, and me still recovering from last night. She rests her free hand on my back. When the oven timer dings, I take the garlic knots out and set them on the counter to cool. Johanna tries to pick at one and I swat her hands away playfully.

Before long, Haymitch is through the door and I suppose I should get ready. Johanna brings me my leg and I attach it on, and head upstairs for a quick shower, a fresh layer of ointment, and some clean clothes. When I come back downstairs, Johanna and Haymitch are laughing rowdily in my kitchen. They've brewed a new pot of coffee and left the cream on the counter to spoil in the summer heat. I wonder how these two survive on their own.

My mind drifts back to Katniss, and no sooner than that she and Gale come in through the door. I feel my stomach churn in envy, until Katniss makes a beeline for me. She sets the bags from the Market on the counter and her hands ghost my chest.

"Are you okay? On your feet?" she whispers to me, concern etched on her face.

"I'm fine. The ointment is really working," I assure her, rubbing her shoulders. I can see Gale staring at us out of the corner of my eye, but Katniss ignores him. She gives me a faint smile and then turns to unpack the vegetables she got at the Market.

Katniss hasn't hunted since Gale came back. She's afraid he will follow her into the woods, so instead we are eating a vegetable concoction she stirs up on the stove. She simmers vine-ripened tomatoes in a pot. While she slices the eggplant, I add some spices to the tomatoes on the stove - oregano, basil, thyme. Katniss adds the eggplant, some onion and peppers, some summer squash. It simmers on the stove and the aromas seep throughout the house.

I scoop the entire dish into a large serving platter and set it on the table. Take the green salad out of the refrigerator, and place the garlic knots in a basket in the middle of the table. Johanna sits in Effie's seat. If Effie were here, we wouldn't have enough chairs, given last night's events. I feel guilty. Gale sits next to Katniss and I breathe through my nose.

Dinner starts out pleasant enough. We pass the food around, 'please' and 'thank you's abound. But no dinner with Johanna can be without incident. Soon, she is tearing little pieces of the garlic knot and throwing them at people when they are looking at their plates. When a piece lands directly in Haymitch's coffee cup, he laughs so hard he almost chokes on his bread. It almost feels like the entire table exhales.

Johanna takes her fork in her hand and begins to speak into it like a microphone. Her impersonation of Caesar Flickerman is spot on. The laugh is impeccable. She begins circling the table, asking each of us humiliating questions just to get a response. I catch Katniss and Gale meet eyes, and she smiles at him. I quickly drop my eyes to my plate.

As the evening draws to a close, I begin to clean the kitchen. Haymitch sits at the table, chatting with me, but I don't really hear him. I see Gale hovering at the doorway with Katniss. I try to act like I'm not paying attention. I use the cloth to sweep crumbs into my hand. Haymitch points. "Kid, you missed a spot." I lose what they are saying at the door.

Gale leans against the frame. He's handsome. Taller than me. Not burned and scarred and hijacked. I want Katniss to rekindle her friendship with him, but maybe it would be better for her if they were more than that. If things went back to how they were before the Reaping. Maybe I'm too damaged to give her what she needs. I pull my eyes away from her, but as I look away I feel her eyes on me and I look back up. I smile, and continue cleaning. _Focus on the table, focus on the table._ I hear the door click closed and I look up, expecting to be alone with Haymitch, but Katniss is still here, her hand pressed on the door. She's still here.

Haymitch heads out soon after. Katniss and I are left standing in the kitchen, washing dishes. After I dry and care for the last plate, I turn to her with a grin. "Tonight was fun, huh?"

"Yeah," she smiles, and looks relieved. "Although I can't believe you admitted your dad's secret nickname for you was Peety Piper," she teases as she finishes wiping off the table.

"If nothing, it was a compliment to my piping skills on the cakes!" I boast.

"Sure it was…" she laughs and throws the rag at me. The light in her eyes glints, and I charge forward and wrap my arms around her waist, lifting her into the air. I poke her ribs and she squeals and writhes in my arms.

"I thought you said Katniss Everdeen doesn't squeal." I tease, and we laugh until we are both out of breath. This feels normal. It feels right. It feels like it should be our life every day. Haven't we earned that? I feel my eyes drop to her lips and my mouth goes dry. I want her. I want to be with her all the time. I want this to be my life. I want to feel her mouth on mine. I shouldn't do this, I know in my mind this isn't a good idea, but everything in this moment feels like we are supposed to be here.

I step forward until the backs of her legs are pressed against the table, and slide my hand along her face. Her skin is impossibly smooth, and I hook my fingers in her hair and sweep it out of her eyes. My heart is beating in my chest as though it's trying to get out. Katniss glues her eyes to mine. This is not just me. She pulls herself up onto the table and sits on its edge. She tugs my shirt to move me into her and I settle between her legs. This is eerily like the office, and I think we are both there in our minds. I drag my mouth down her neck, and her breathing quickens. I can feel her breath ragged against my face. She runs her hand up my back and digs her hand into my hair. She pulls it slightly and squeezes her legs around my waist. I'm out of my mind.

I graze a trail of kisses across her collarbone and up her jawline. She drops her head back and exposes her neck to me. I kiss her jaw and feel her breathe against me. She pulls her head back down and I pull my face toward hers. I want this. She wants this. Why have we been fighting it? My mouth is hovering inches from hers. I lean closer, and my lips just ghost over hers. I want her to do this. I want her to decide what comes next.

Katniss fists her hand in my hair and pulls me into her. My mouth crashes into hers. This kiss is different than any of our others. There is an urgency to it, a fire. I feel like everything between us is burning. I can't breathe and I don't want to. She pulls my hair a little harder and I can't take it anymore. I need more. We need more. I hook my arms under her legs and push her back against the table and climb up with her. My body is on top of hers, and I prop myself up on my good leg so as not to crush her. She desperate and clinging and trying to pull me into her. I feel the same desperation in me. I never know what's next with her. Maybe we won't talk tomorrow. Maybe this is it. Maybe she'll pull back. This may be the last time she ever lets me kiss her, and I'm not going to waste it.

My tongue traces her lips and she opens her mouth slightly to let me in. Her urgency intensifies, and she pulls me into her until our bodies are flush. Her midriff is slightly exposed, and when the skin of her stomach meets mine, I am wild. I dip my tongue deeper into her mouth, and feel her sigh into me. The effect she has on me is palpable, and I let out a shaky breath, ragged and passionate. I shift my leg up between hers and press it into her. She is hot, and I can feel her on my thigh, and she lets out a loud moan and presses herself into the table. I may have taken this too far. I don't want to scare her off. I pull myself away and look at her. She is absolutely stunning. She smiles up at me, lips swollen, a smile spread across her mouth, her head surrounded by a halo of silken dark hair. She blushes and bites her lip. I want to drink in the moment. I want to freeze it and stay here forever, live it again and again in my mind. It takes everything in me to pull myself away and help her off the table.

She straightens her clothes and I tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. How are we supposed to go to sleep now? "I'm wide awake," I laugh.

"Me too," she says. We head into the living room and lay our heads on opposite armrests. She removes my prosthetic, and our legs tangle comfortably together. We talk for hours, but my mind keeps drifting back to last night. The conversation lulls, and I know I shouldn't be alone with her here. That I'm being selfish yet again. I pull myself up, and start.

"Katniss, about last night…"

"Don't," she says, sitting up and hugging her legs to her body.

"I don't really remember a lot about it, which means it must have been bad." I stare at my hands. I don't know what they did to her.

"It wasn't that bad, Peeta." She tries comforting me, but I don't deserve that.

"You shouldn't lie to me, Katniss," I say resignedly. I could have killed her. I could have lost control. I don't even remember what I did. I want to ask, but I lose my voice. I can barely whisper, "Did I hurt you?"

"Oh no. God no, Peeta. You didn't hurt me. You hurt a chair, but you've got 5 just like it so, I think we can manage." She's trying to joke but, I can't make light of this.

She needs to leave. We shouldn't be here like this. "This is why I was trying not to be alone with you. If things had gotten away from us…"

But she cuts me off before I can finish. "If I had been here earlier, it never would have gotten as far as it did." She's right. I know that. If she had been here, I never would have lost myself. I would have been in pain, I would have had a flashback, but her smell, her skin… it keeps me here. I had nothing to anchor me. She continues. "If I had been here, things would have been easier to hold on to. You could have talked to me. I would have kept you grounded. It was my fault for pushing you away for weeks. And Effie leaving. It was all of it."

"Katniss, I..." It's not enough. It's not her fault.

"Don't apologize to me again. You didn't do this. Snow did. And he's gone now, and we can just get through it together. We keep each other safe." She leans forward and presses her palm to my cheek. "Let me keep you safe."

That's what we do. Keep each other safe. I just nod my head. I know I'm not going anywhere tonight, not with her skin pressed to mine. The evening is finally getting to us, and I lean my head back and close my eyes. She crawls forward and lays her head on my chest. I tangle my fingers in her hair, and her smell invades my senses. I am safe with her here. I can feel sleep pulling me under, and I feel my mouth whisper, "I like you here."

"Me too," I think she says, but I doze off.


	7. Outtake - Mrs Everdeen

**OUTTAKE – MRS. EVERDEEN**

 _This scene occurs in District 4 after the tracker jacker sting._

Peeta looks like a little boy sleeping in bed. His blonde curls frame his face, and in this rare moment of peace, he looks like he could be five years old. It's not long before his brow furrows; he begins to shake and his hands stretch and fist. The restraints on his bed keep him from moving too much, and he shoots open his eyes, chest heaving.

The heart monitor sings as his pulse climbs. His eyes dart around, seeing his surroundings but not taking any of it in. "Katniss? KATNISS!" he screams and pulls at his restraints. I bring myself level with his face so he can see me.

"Peeta, Katniss isn't here. She's safe back in 12, and you are safe here. I'm here with you." His eyes look at me, confusion shifting to doubt then to acceptance. I squeeze his hand in mine.

"I don't know how I got here," he says quietly, with a vulnerability and innocence that reminds me he's just a boy. A boy who has held the weight of the world in his hands. I'll never be Peeta's mother. I've barely earned the right to call myself Katniss's mother. But I can be here for him now, when she can't.

"Peeta," I say softly. Quietly. I bring my hand to his cheek and his eyes meet mine. He wants to know, but he doesn't. He's terrified of what I'm going to say. "Everyone is okay. Some bumps and bruises, but you didn't seriously hurt anyone."

He lets out a shaky breath. "Did I flashback? Or did I turn entirely? I can't remember the day at all, even before." There's bitterness in the last statement. Another memory gone, another day he can't reconcile.

"You were stung by a tracker jacker."

"Oh," he says, and then realization hits him. "OH! Did they even have time to run? Did Haymitch use the tranquilizer? No one's hurt? How is that possible?" He's batting tears from his eyes.

"No, Peeta, he didn't use the tranquilizer. The venom overwhelmed your system and your heart gave out."

He's processing something and I can't tell what. His eyes are cloudy and his breathing can't be heard over the buzz of the machines. "You should have just let me die," he says, and turns his head away from me. I reach to unbuckle his restraints, and he cuts me off. "No. Leave them."

I reach out, but it's like touching a corpse. He's in his own mind, reeling through the consequences of what has happened. That once again, he's almost killed Katniss.

Peeta doesn't eat, doesn't sleep. He clenches his body through nightmares and wears the skin on his wrists bare against the restraints. Effie arrives in 4 and she is a constant at his bedside. He's not entirely lucid between the lack of sleep and drugs, and eventually the doctors slip him back into a coma. He fights going under, but finally succumbs to the cocktail of drugs. We try a new antidote Dr. Aurelius has developed that should diminish the impact of future stings and clear the remaining poison from his system. It's a physical drug only. It will help his heart keep beating, but it won't free him from the torment that loiters in his mind.

Spending time with Effie is awkward at best. She is in every way my opposite – cheerful, chipper, optimistic. She preens over Peeta and is on the phone with my daughter constantly. She asks me if I want to talk to her, but I just shake my head. I want to, but I can't hear her voice right now. I need to focus on getting this boy back to her. Maybe then, we can try to mend some of the disrepair in our relationship.

Dr. Aurelius is a short, wire-haired man with large glasses. I often find him napping around the hospital, but I attribute his irregular sleep pattern to a side effect of genius. He'll stay up all hours of the night in the lab, mixing concoctions and running tests. He has a voracious appetite for knowledge and has expertise in both physical medicine and mental health. Despite the hours he spends locked away studying theoretical medicines, he is a clinician too, with a hands-on approach to treatment. I hear him telling a nurse he is considering moving to 4, and I'm thrilled at the prospect, although I must admit I find him difficult to converse with.

Dr. Aurelius approaches me carrying an arm full of scans and medical journals.

"Mrs. Everdeen, could I speak with you privately?" he asks.

"Of course," I say, and we duck into an empty examination room.

"As I'm sure you are aware, Mr. Mellark has no next of kin, so medical decisions are being handled by Miss Trinket, his appointed guardian. I was hoping I might solicit your help in," he searches for the right word, "motivating her to make the appropriate decision with my proposed course of treatment."

He lays out the charts and scans on the table and we talk for a long while. His proposal is dangerous, but it could give Peeta his life back. Armed with information, I walk down to Peeta's room.

Effie is curled up in a chair beside him. Her platinum wig has haphazardly drifted to one side of her head, as though she threw it on without much forethought. She stirs when she feels me standing over her, and worry etches its way across her face.

"Is everything alright?" she asks, trying to bury the worry in her voice.

"Yes, it's okay," I say, and pull up a chair in front of her. "I do want to talk to you, though."

Effie pulls herself upright in the chair and straightens her wig and clothes. She composes herself and I see her transform into an escort. I've never completely understood Katniss's affection for her. She seems a bit conceited and materialistic, like a flesh-and-blood walking personification of everything that is wrong with the Capitol, but somehow she's weaseled her way into their hearts. I shake my head clear and start.

I explain about the brain scans. The new details we've learned with the tests being run in such close proximity to a live injection of venom. I show her the details and try to break it down as simply as I can, and I see her nod with understanding. She's cleverer than she lets on.

Finally, I propose the surgery.

After a long while, Effie clears her throat. "This is something Peeta should decide."

"Effie, he's just a boy," I say softly.

"He hasn't been a boy in a long time. Not since I pulled his name from the Reaping bowl. He needs ours support and love, but ultimately this is his choice. I want the doctors to bring him up."

"Effie, that's not a great idea," I implore.

"I said _bring him up_."


	8. Outtake - Effie

**OUTTAKE - EFFIE**

 _This outtake continues from Mrs. Everdeen's. Switching POV to Effie._

Later that evening Dr. Aurelius and the head neurologist come to Peeta's room to help pull him up from the coma. Mrs. Everdeen is standing stoically in the corner. I admire her for being present with Peeta, even though it must be very painful for her. I am sure to tell Katniss over and over how her mother has been here through it all, but I can tell by her locked jaw, Mrs. Everdeen doesn't agree with what we are doing now.

To be candid, I don't quite care what she thinks.

Peeta comes to slowly, and I sit on the edge of his bed and pull his hand into my lap. He sees me there and smiles weakly. The doctors twist knobs and set dials on the machines around him, but I just ignore them. I keep my eyes glued on Peeta and fuss with his hair.

After a while, the medical staff begins to file out of the room, satisfied Peeta is stable and lucid. Mrs. Everdeen goes to follow, but I entreat her with my eyes to stay, and she falls back into the corner of the room again. Peeta's voice sounds like sandpaper, but he asks me how I am. Ever the gentleman.

"Peeta, I asked the doctors to wake you up because we have something important to discuss." He nods his head and looks at me with some trepidation, but I continue. I explain about the brain scans, and what Dr. Aurelius saw. I stumble on some of the science, and Mrs. Everdeen fills in the pieces here and there. Finally, I look Peeta directly in the eye and tell him about the surgery.

"It's never been done before, Peeta. They could give you your life back, but it could also kill you," I try to impart no favorability in my voice one way or the other. I don't want him to feel as though I'm pushing him into a specific choice. This needs to be his decision. He doesn't hesitate for a moment, as I knew he would.

"I want the surgery," he says with unmistakable clarity.

"Peeta," I try to start in, but he cuts me off.

"No, I want the surgery. If I don't have it, I could kill Katniss. Or Johanna. Or Gale, even." The pain in his voice is tangible.

"You could stay here," Mrs. Everdeen joins us at the bed. "You could come live in 4, with me and Annie. We could continue your treatment in person, and there are very few triggers here. No unpredictable circumstances. You don't have to do this." I give her a quizzical look. I was very much under the impression she wanted him to have the surgery, but now I think it was just a mother's selfishness. She wanted to keep her daughter safe.

"There is no life for me here. There is no life for me without Katniss. If this surgery means I could have a chance – a chance at loving her, at living a normal life, at not having to worry I might smother her in my sleep… I'll do it." He's quiet for a while, and his eyes look distant. "We've had these few moments – these fleeting, brief moments where I see what it could be like. Her head in my lap, my hand in her hair. Sketching, hunting, painting. A family. Just these tiny little perfect moments, all distantly strung together. Showing me what I want my life to be. They fade as soon as they come, because there is too much pain and grief and violence to let us be. But if I could trust myself... if we could both just let down the walls…" He meets my eyes and I blink away the tears I feel burning in them. "I want the surgery."

"Okay," I say quietly. I lean forward and kiss his cheek. "Then get some rest. Tomorrow's going to be a big big big day!"

He settles, and Mrs. Everdeen and I duck out of the room into the hall.

"I thought you wanted him to have the surgery," I say to her as we find a Quiet Room to hide away in.

"I don't want him to kill my only daughter," she confesses. "But I don't want him to die for her either. He's a good kid." She looks at me with some curiosity in her eye. "I assumed you _didn't_ want him to have the operation."

"I knew he'd want to. This is something he should choose."

"He may be choosing death," Mrs. Everdeen replies.

"He's choosing her. He'll always choose her," I reply.

I spend the night in Peeta's room. We don't sleep much. He wrestles and shivers all night. I try to keep him calm. I see what the Games have done to him. The War. Before Katniss and Peeta, my tributes never survived. It hurt in its own awful, painful way, but in a sense I was spared from witnessing the torment of a survivor. That's all a Victor really is. I know that now.

I remember one of the first nights of the Victory Tour. Katniss screaming in her sleep. It barreled through the walls of the train.

 _I hear her screaming. I pull a silk robe around my body and run into the hall. Someone is hurting one of my Victors. As I turn the corner, I see Haymitch. He's drunk, sitting in the hall outside Katniss's door._

 _"What are you doing just sitting there?" I spit at him. "We need to help her!"_

 _"There is no helping her, Princess," he says, and takes another swig from the snifter propped between his legs._

 _"What are you talking about?" I cry._

 _"She does this every night. She's done it every night since we got back."_

 _"She didn't do this last night," I quip back._

 _"She didn't sleep last night," he deadpans._

 _I step back. "She… she screams? Why would she scream? She's a Victor! She's rich, she's famous. It's everything anyone could ever want!" I can't understand why a beautiful albeit taciturn girl would be acting this way. It's inappropriate._

 _"Because she's haunted by demons in her sleep," he drawls back, and pulls another gulp of liquor through his teeth. "Some of us drown them. Others scream." He swallows._

 _"You are a disgusting, repugnant man! And ungrateful. The Capitol has bathed you in the lap of luxury. You never have to work, you have everything you could possibly want. And so does she! You can be sure she'll be hearing an earful from me in the morning!"_

 _I turn on my heels and head back to my room. I pull my robe from my body and throw it on the bed. Demons! What demons? Everyone admires Katniss. She's the star of the Capitol!_

 _But Katniss's screams continue to drill into my mind. She sounds terrified. She sounds vulnerable. I pull the pillow up from my bed and wrap it around my head. I pace the room. Of what could that poor girl be dreaming? I soon realize those aren't the cries of a spoiled, selfish girl. She's in agony._

 _I tiptoe down the hall to Haymitch's door. I don't know what I'm doing here. This is foolish. I'm about to turn and leave when the door opens._

 _"Hey," he says, and drunkenly leans into the door frame._

 _"Hello," I say, and hesitate before lifting my eyes to his. "She's in pain," I say quietly._

 _"Yeah, she is," he acknowledges._

 _"Because… of Rue?" I ask meekly._

 _"That's part of it."_

 _"I'm sorry for what I said earlier," I finish, before turning to leave. I feel his hand hold mine and I turn back to him. Haymitch pulls me into his chest and I try to hold it in for a moment, but a sob escapes my mouth. I cry softly into his shirt. It smells like sweat and stale alcohol, but in this moment I don't care._

 _She screamed every night for weeks. It was agony. One night, when it gets so deafening I'm certain it will travel to the boys' sleeping car. Then, as suddenly as it started, it stops. I catch Peeta sneaking in and out of her room, and I chastise them for their inappropriate behavior, but secretly, at night, I'm grateful for the quiet. I'm grateful she's found peace._

In the morning, the nurses come in to wheel Peeta into surgery. He grabs my hand desperately and cries out, "Wait!" They stop, and he fastens his eyes to mine with a significance beyond his years.

"Effie, if I don't make it out… Tell Katniss that I love her. That I've always loved her. That I knew she loved me too, even if she didn't say it. I knew. Tell her that." He fights away the tears threatening to spill from his crystal blue eyes. I nod furiously.

"Of course! Of course I will," I promise.

"Well. I guess it's time for my big big big day!" he tries to joke, but I just kiss his cheek.

"You are the bravest boy I've ever known, Peeta Mellark." He smiles, and then he disappears through the doors.


	9. Chapter 19 - Mrs Everdeen

**CHAPTER 19 - MRS. EVERDEEN**

The dinner is a bit overwhelming. I knew coming back to District 12 would be difficult, but seeing everyone crowded in the house makes me feel like I can't breathe. Katniss has always been a bit of a loner. She's always shirked affection from anyone but Prim. She didn't even have friends at school, save the Mayor's daughter. To see her in the kitchen surrounded by loved ones, laughing, her eyes sparkling, it's how I'd always hoped she be. But it's not what I brought out in her.

I dismiss everyone after the meal is over. It's obvious they've all been staying here, but Peeta needs his rest and their attention needs to be focused on his healing. I've made Peeta a bed on the couch, although I had to borrow the extra linens from Effie. My daughter may be grown, but she still doesn't seem to know how to manage household necessities. I want to say something, but it's not my place anymore. I should be here to help with things like that. She knows that, as do I.

I do a final check on Peeta before bed. We do a few exercises – word recognition, shapes, sounds. I check his pupils are reacting to stimulus, change the bandages on his head, and give him a small dose of morphling to get him through the evening. Peeta did not sleep well in the hospital, and it severely stunted his recovery. I'd come into his room late at night, and he'd be clutching his bed rails, paralyzed in fear. I knew he was having a nightmare. I'd seen Katniss have plenty.

The worst was the week after they announced the Quell.

I'd noticed she and Peeta had grown closer since returning from the Victory Tour. After the Games they hardly spoke, but things were different now. I'd wake up to find her missing from the house. Normally, she'd be out in the woods hunting, but on more than one occasion I'd find she had crossed the yard to Peeta's. She claimed she'd gone over in the early morning to help with his baking, but I can't imagine she'd do anything more than get in the way. My daughter has never been particularly domestic. I wasn't sure when she was sneaking out, but I made it known I did not approve. She was much too young to be at a boy's house without any supervision. His family just left him there, and didn't seem to care one way or the other what he did.

I tried to speak to her about it, but she just shrugged me off. I could tell Katniss was trying hard to mend our relationship, but eventually she must have found my concerns too grating, as she turned on a heel and shouted at me, "You are in MY house. You don't make the rules here." I didn't know what to say, so I just looked at my hands until she walked away. I tried to make up for Peeta's absent family. I visited his house, I invited him to ours. I sent him notes and chided him when he wasn't not eating enough, or when he pushed himself too hard.

Once they announced the Quell, though, things were beyond my control. Katniss's nightmares, which had always been bad, were escalating exponentially. She would scream until she couldn't breathe, and it would take Prim and me both just to pull her out of it.

But one night, it was simply beyond us.

 _Katniss thrashes and screams until tears are running down her cheeks. The terror has overwhelmed every sense now, and I can't pull her out. She can't hear me, can't see me, can't feel me. She is gone in this terror and there is no getting her back from it. Prim looks at me with desperation in her eyes. No one in our house has slept much in the past week – either sick with worry about the Quarter Quell, or because Katniss's screams echo of the walls. Prim is asking me with her eyes, and I know what she wants to do._

 _"Go get him," I say, and she flies out the door. I stand and watch Prim through the window, her nightgown billowing behind her as she sprints across the yard to Peeta's door. She only knocks once and he's already there. He's clearly not sleeping either. I see them chat for just a moment, and then they are both sprinting back to the house. I hear the front door slam open and two sets of feet pounding up the stairs._

 _When Peeta enters the room, all eyes are on Katniss. It's as though Prim and I fade into the walls. She's crying and kicking, drowning herself in her sheets. Her breath is jagged, uneven, and her face is red with exertion. Getting close to her when she's like this is always risky, with limbs flying out erratically in every direction, but Peeta immediately sits on the bed with her and pulls her into his chest. He presses his mouth to her ear and whispers, while holding the back of her head with his hand and stroking her hair with his thumb. This is more intimate than I want my kids to be, but I'm desperate. I see her body still as she comes out of it, and she collapses into him._

 _Katniss sobs into his chest, knotting her hands in his shirt. She still can't seem to breathe as the sobs overtake her frame. I see Peeta slip his body behind hers, and pull her back into his chest._

 _"Breathe with me," he whispers to her, and pulls her waist in. "In," he says, and they inhale until her chest swells. "Out," he says, and she blows air out her pursed lips. The color starts to return to normal in her cheeks. "In," he says, and they breathe in. "Out," he whispers, and they blow out. She's gaining her composure; I can see the fear slip from her eyes. He weaves his fingers in hers, and she pulls his hand to her mouth. She lays her head on his chest and tucks her knees under his. He pulls her into him. This is practiced. This is familiar. This isn't the first time. Katniss closes her eyes and allows a peace to fall over her. Peeta raises eyes to me in question, and I simply nod my head, take Prim by the shoulders, and leave the room, closing the door behind us. I don't see why it much matters anymore. One of my kids will be dead in a month's time._

 _Prim looks up at me with tears in her eyes. "He loves her so much, Mom." I wrap my arms around her tiny frame and pull her into me. Then she whispers in my hair, "I think she loves him too."_

I knew one of my kids would be dead. I just didn't think it would be Prim.

So when I see Katniss crawl onto the couch and curl herself into Peeta, I pause at the bottom of the stairs and look at them. It's practiced. It's familiar. It isn't the first time. I want to tell her I love her, that I'm sorry. I want to ask how she can bear to be in this house, walk through these halls and not feel haunted at every step, like I do now. I want to tell her to be careful with her heart, but not too careful. After everything that happened, I never expected Katniss and Peeta to find their way back to one another.

But I can't breathe here, not without Prim. I can't see back to happy times in 12. I just see burying my husband. Watching my daughter reaped. Holding her as she screamed at night. The punishment. The whippings. The blood. The bombings. The only happy, untainted piece of light here was Prim, and now that she's gone, I feel like I'm drowning in the bodies of those that should be here but aren't. I love my daughter, but I can't stand this.

I swallow the pain, and walk up the stairs. Just take care of Peeta. Show her you love her.


	10. Outtake - Gale

**OUTTAKE - GALE**

 _ **Author's Note: This scene doesn't correlate exactly with a chapter, but it happens sometime after Gale's wedding and before the shooting.**_

I am sitting in our spot when I see Katniss's shadow reach over me. She's just as quiet as the day I first found her in the woods - small, defensive, fierce. The day our friendship began. We've resumed our routine of hunting every Sunday. We don't talk a ton, but we've never needed to. Just being out here together is enough. Moving with her, a team, like I've always wanted us to be. After Prim, I didn't think I'd ever be able to pick up the pieces of my life in 12, but I'm home. And I am happier than I could have imagined being.

Johanna makes me feel like I am alive in a way I've never felt before. She burns in the same way I do, she's passionate and she's all in. There is no hesitancy in our love, we've both jumped head first and that's it. It's her and me, forever, and I'm ecstatic. I loved Katniss for a long time, but I don't think I was actually _in_ love with her. I thought I was. I thought about her; I worried about her and dreamt about her. I wanted her in my life, by my side, in my bed. But now that I'm with Johanna... Being in love with someone is different. I see that now. I loved Katniss. I think Katniss loved me too. But she was in love with Peeta.

She's particularly quiet today. I can tell something's wrong, but I don't push it. If Katniss wants to talk with me, she will. If she just needs the escape of the woods and to linger in its silence, she can have that, too. We travel far on foot, slipping miles and miles into the forest. It will be a long hike back, but I like that. Sundays with Katniss keep me sane. She finds a rock and props herself up as she begins field cleaning our game. I sit beside her and do the same. After a while, she quietly whispers, "Does Johanna ever talk about what they did to her in the Capitol?"

My blood runs cold. I try not to think about that time. I feel the vomit rise in my throat, and I swallow hard to push it down. "No," I barely breathe out. I can feel the fury simmering below the surface. I hate that piece of myself - the vengeful, raging, angry man who didn't see any good in the world. I try to shove it back in. "It's probably better I don't know. I think if I knew why she can't feel water on her skin, why she recoils at any sudden sounds... I think I'd kill someone. I think I'd hunt them down and," I stop myself. "That part of me needs to be behind me." I pick up a twig from the ground and begin peeling the bark away with my fingertips. I breathe through my nose and sow my breath as I toss the meticulously stripped stick to the side."Does Peeta talk about it with you?"

"Sometimes," she says. "We do Real or Not Real. But he leaves out chunks of time. I think he's trying to spare me. He knows I blame myself." She kicks the dirt. Her silence matches mine. I'm not going to try to convince her it's not her fault. She needs to come to that on her own.

"Sometimes, at night, he'll wake in a terror, and he just mutters incoherently to himself. I get bits and pieces, until I bring him back to reality. Last night he was… I've never seen him like that."

I immediately shift from anger to worry, and I can feel the concern spread across my face.

"Oh no, not like that. That part of him is dead, Gale." She means the Mutt. The violent part of him that could kill any of us if he wanted to. The part that, with hardly any resistance, broke Johanna's nose, dislocated my shoulder, and smashed in Katniss's face to a pulp. "He was… He had a nightmare, and he was paralyzed in fear. It was like a nightmare and a flashback all in one. I knew he was overtired from the day. He hadn't slept much the night before, and spent almost the whole day in his studio. I knew something was coming to a head. And then last night, I woke up and he was completely paralyzed. Every muscle in his body was clenched, and his face twisted in this grotesque mask of pain. I couldn't pull him out. I tried and tried. I did everything I knew how to do, but he was asleep and gone at the same time."

"So what did you do?" I ask. I've found Johanna in similar situations, but she'd kill me if I told anyone that.

"I squeezed a pressure point on his hand. I notice him do it to himself sometimes, but I've never done it myself. But I pushed this point in his hand, here…" She takes my hand and squeezes the fleshy part between where my thumb meets my hand, and I feel a dull pain resonate. "It was like he came up for air. It was hours before I totally had him back, but he just kept muttering things that made me sick. About Darius. Johanna. Annie. Nameless people that he stuttered irrationally about for hours. Doctors. Something called 'the gallery.' Johanna was everywhere."

My mind slips back to that night. I don't know if I should tell her this, but she's my best friend, she wants to know, and I need someone to talk to.

"The cells were all lining a gallery," I start, looking at my hands instead of her face. "It was obvious that's where they… hurt them. So everyone could watch. Had to watch. There were instruments, some sharp and glistening against the beams of the flashlights, others dull and rusted. Chains hung from the ceiling. It smelled like death – like rotting flesh and bile. There was a decomposing body in one of the cells. I have no idea who it once was. It was too mangled and ruined to even tell if it was a man or a woman. It was just left there for the rest of them to take in. Try to sleep next to. There was no escaping death in that room. The sight, the smell, the sound. It was hell." This the most I've ever talked about the rescue with anyone. Peeta and Johanna don't remember it clearly. It's a burden I carry alone.

"When I got there, Johanna and Peeta were holding hands through the bars of their cells. I didn't like him then, and I didn't even know Johanna, but it was a heart-wrenching scene for anyone. They were frail, and battered, and frightened, but they both clung to a tiny bit of humanity, comfort, in a place of torment. Just the tips of their fingers were weaved together, like they were…" I cough and clear my throat. "Even Boggs took a second when we found them like that."

I take a deep breath and continue. "When they saw us, they both retreated back into their cells. I went to see Peeta first, but he was out of his mind. His face was just a mess, I almost didn't recognize him. Clearly Snow was done using him for the camera. Peeta plastered himself to the far wall and flinched when I touched him. I barely touched him, Katniss, I just grazed his skin with my fingers and he recoiled like I'd burned him. I kept saying my name, thinking maybe he didn't recognize me, but it was like he couldn't trust what was right in front of him."

"I tried Johanna next. She was mad - completely disassociated from what was going on. She crawled into the back corner and spat at me. The floor of her cell was drenched. There were water droplets falling from the ceiling. When one splashed on her body she cried out for Peeta. She wouldn't let me touch her either. When Peeta heard her scream, he threw Boggs against a wall trying to get to her. Finally, we had to gas them and carry them out. On the way back to the hovercraft, a prison guard jumped us. I could have just incapacitated him, but I was blind with rage. Over what they did. In the gallery. In the districts. If you had seen Annie... I kicked his ribs and screamed in his face. He begged me to stop, but I was out of my body at that point. It was almost as if I watched myself choke him. I felt his life slip away. Boggs had to pull me off."

I can tell by the look on her face she hadn't known I'd done that.

"I'm not sorry. I'd do it again, right now, if I saw him." I fall silent again. Katniss doesn't break it. "I know what I said back in 13. That even if they tortured me, I'd never say what Peeta said. That was just stupid, Katniss. The psychological torment they were putting them through… It's one thing to allow persevere while someone hurts you, it's another to allow other human beings to be tortured and slaughtered before your eyes and stay silent for the greater good. A good you can't even see. Anyone would lose it down there." I wait. Katniss can't bring herself to say anything, but her eyes look forgiving. She leans over and wraps her arms around me. I hesitate for a moment, and then I pull her close into me. We just sit there for a while, holding each other, rocking, letting the pain seep away from our relationship. She pulls back and rests her head on my shoulder.

"She doesn't talk about it with me, but I know she does with Peeta. And she calls Annie a lot. But she won't tell me what happened. Does he tell you?"

Katniss shakes her head. It's a special kind of pain, to live with knowing someone hurt the person you love. That you can't go back and fix it, you just have to watch them live with it, and hope your presence is comfort enough.

"Johanna says she spends her Sunday mornings with Peeta while we are out here," I tell her.

"Peeta says Johanna is a terrible baker," Katniss replies. We both laugh. She reaches out and takes my hand in hers. She kisses my cheek, then stands, brushes her pants off with her hands, and reaches one to me. She hoists me from the ground and we start our journey back. Sundays are a day of healing, for our whole family.


	11. Chapter 23 - Peeta

**CHAPTER 23 - PEETA**

Everyone joins Gale for his inauguration in the Capitol except for Katniss, Haymitch, and me. Katniss couldn't go if she wanted to; although I'm not sure she's sad she has an excuse to skip the Capitol. She seems to be happy here with me. I feel at peace for the first time in a long time.

There is a smaller celebration in town to swear in Thom as Mayor. Apparently Haymitch coordinated a whole movement of people writing in his name of the ballot. He says it was solely to help Gale, but we all know Thom was the best person for the job. Katniss is deliriously happy at the party. She is twirling and dancing and smiling, which is completely out of character for her, but I just go with it. I'm thrilled to see her letting loose for once. She clings to my body, and during a slow number she perches up on her toes and kisses me. In public. In front of everyone. Her lips taste like champagne and berries, and the feel of her against me is intoxicating enough to have me as lightheaded as she is. I tighten my hands on her hips and she purrs into my ear, "Let's go home."

 _Home_. As in "our home." As in the place where we share a life together. I can't stop grinning. When Katniss trips on the front stairs, and I catch her, it feels surreal as I hold her in my arms. "Which one of us is missing a leg?" I tease.

Katniss blames her heels, which she slips off and carries in her hand as we make our way back to the Village. She's flirty and smiling and bright. I haven't seen in her this happy in… I don't think I've ever seen her this happy. Relieved maybe. Excited. Not happy. She's chattering on about the champagne, how the bubbles made her stomach feel like it has butterflies in it. Mine had butterflies too, but it was more when she leaned in close and swayed with me. When we get to her house, she can't seem to manage the stairs, so I sweep her into my arms and carry her into the dark house. She kisses my neck – if kiss is the right word. Her tongue is everywhere and it's making me laugh. I put her on the couch and she woozily grabs a hold of the edge.

My girl on fire is drunk.

I get her a glass of water. We need something other than booze and sugar inside that belly. I hand her the glass and tell her to drink it.

"But it will drown all the butterflies," she pouts. I give her a stern look and she basically spills it all over herself. I need to get her to bed. Katniss reaches up her hands, and before I'm able to take them in mine, she starts fumbling with my belt. I can't help but laugh. She is going to regret this in the morning. Maybe I shouldn't tell her. She'd die of embarrassment. I smile down at her. "What do you think you are doing?"

"I want you," she says, and rips the belt away from me and tosses it behind her. She tries to get to her feet, but she's dizzy and I pull her into me before she falls. Katniss pushes her mouth into mine. I smile and kiss her back lightly, but she's everywhere – all over my face, my mouth, my neck. I'm trying to slow her down when she pushes her tongue into my mouth. I can't help but get excited. Sloppy and drunk as it is, Katniss looks beautiful and she's giggling and free. I contemplate whether I'll need to carry her over my shoulder or if she'll actually walk upstairs. I'm sure I won't be able to get her to brush her teeth. I just need to get her tucked in… She swirls her tongue on my earlobe and almost sticks it in my ear. It reminds me of when Rye used to pin me down and stick his wet finger in my ear.

"What's gotten into you?" I smirk. She is clinging to my body. She's sexy and beautiful and oh so drunk. I'm about to scoop my arms under her when she starts fumbling with the buttons on my shirt. "Hey, slow down," I whisper. I try to keep it light, but she's pulling and tugging until she rips my shirt open and buttons go flying and bouncing all over the floor. Katniss runs her hands across my stomach and I shiver. My body responds and I fight it back. Her fingertips dance along my stomach, drifting lower. I try to steady my breathing when she slips her hand down my pants and wraps herself around me. Alarms sound in my head.

"Woah," I say and pull away from her. We haven't done this… Not like this… And I don't want it to happen like this. Neither would she. I feel my face burn and try to act as calm as I can. I know I'm failing miserably. "Katniss, what are you doing?"

"I told you, I want you," she says, and closes the distance between us. She kisses me again, and I can feel her burning on my skin. Her hands start roaming again and I grab her wrist.

"I think we need to slow down," I say gently.

It doesn't have the desired effect. Katniss puts her hands on my shoulders and perches on her tiptoes. She drags her mouth to my ear and whispers, "Why? I know you want me." She smiles at me coyly. "You're a boy, I can tell." This isn't sexy, and it isn't even fun anymore.

"No," I say firmly, and push her hands away from my body in a matter-of-fact way. Not aggressively, but she needs to get the point that this isn't going anywhere.

"No? I thought you loved me!" She's acting stubborn and juvenile, and I love her all the same. I see her face flash in anger and confusion. Embarrassment. She thinks she's being rejected.

"I do love you," I step forward and cup her face in my hands. "I've always loved you." I mean every word, but Katniss just takes this as a signal to move forward and throws herself at me again. This isn't how I want this to happen. This isn't how I want to tell her I love her again. This isn't how I want to feel her for the first time. Drunk and stumbling and absent. I spent enough time without control of myself. When this happens, I want it to be real, and I want both of us present. She's almost shoving me now, trying to get me to play along, and I throw her hands away. "Stop, Katniss!"

She recoils away from me and I know this isn't going to end well. Her face contorts into a wild rage, and I've seen this before. I've seen my mother shift from one emotion to the next on a dime. Calm, then livid. Taciturn, then vengeful for whatever perceived slight left her reeling between the two emotions. When she'd shift like this… I knew she'd hit me. I know when a blow is coming, so I'm ready when Katniss takes a pillow from the couch and throws it at my face. I duck effortlessly. "I thought you wanted me! You're a liar!"

"Not like this. I don't want it to be like this." Before I even get the words out of my mouth she grabs a glass of water from the table and hurls it at me. Even drunk, she only misses me by inches, and the glass shatters on the wall behind me, shooting glass and water everywhere. I can't do this. I can't do this again.

"Well, it's this or nothing, Peeta," she spits at me.

I can't. I meet her eyes, which are full of fury. I can't do this. I turn away from her, and I leave. She just needs to come down. She just needs space.

I head across the yard to my house. I don't really sleep. I spend the night on my couch. Katniss's lights never shut off. I drift in and out somewhat, but dreams of my mother hurling rolling pins and pastry knives at my head keep me from staying under long. I try to sketch, but everything comes out with furious, nonsensical edges and I put it away. When morning finally peeks through the living room window, I head upstairs. I strip off the remains of my shirt and the suit from the night before. I remember back to me twirling Katniss on the dance floor, her quiet breath in my ear. I run the shower and let the water fall over me. I try to wash away the shame from last night. I shouldn't have kissed her back. I shouldn't have let any of it get as far as it did.

Katniss has been pushing boundaries with me lately, and I've loved every second of it. She's never been any good at words, but she tells me she loves me when she kisses a particularly scarred streak on my shoulder. She tells me she loves me when wraps her body around me and holds me tight until every bit of her that could be touching me is. She's passionate, and excitable, and she smiles more freely now. I always let her engage, I always let her take the next step. When she pulled my hand under her shirt last week, I nearly lost my mind feeling her shake underneath me. She is perfect and beautiful.

But last night… that wasn't about her loving me. That was about her not having any control. Everything about Katniss is always so measured, so calculated, so methodical. She would hate herself if we had followed through with whatever it was she was trying to start.

I dry myself off and decide to head over to her house. I'm not sure if I'll be greeted with open arms or flying housewares, but I'll take the risk. When I sneak through the door, I find the house a disaster. Glass is shattered all over her floor. Pillows are strewn about. The carpet is tangled. Katniss is passed out on her couch, her evening dress twisted around her body like confines. She rolls over and squints toward the doorway. I decide to put my best face forward, and act like she didn't try to break my face last night.

I cross to the couch carefully, glass shattering and crunching under my feet. I squat in front of her, push the tangled, sweaty hair out of her face and tuck it behind her ear. "Morning, sunshine," I say.

She twists her body back toward the couch and hides her face in the cushions. She remembers enough to be embarrassed. She mumbles "Imsrrrr…" into a pillow and I take it as a statement of contrition.

"And it's time for bed," I say and scoop my arms under her body. I can't have her walk on the glass-covered floors. I lift her from the couch and carry her up the stairs. She clings to my neck like the world is spinning and she thinks she might fall. I sit her on the edge of the bed and take a first assessment. She is pale and sweating. Her hands are shaking and she's anchoring herself to the bed like she thinks she might fall down. I unzip her dress, pull it over her head, and hang it over her closet door. I dig through her drawers and find one of my old tee shirts she's stashed away in the back. I can't help but smile. I have no idea when she took this or how long she's had it. I make her raise her arms over her head and I tug the tee shirt onto her body. When she drops her hands, Katniss's face turns a pallid shade of green and she bolts to the bathroom. She's barely made it to the toilet when she starts heaving up champagne and hors devours from last night. I pull her hair back from her face. She heaves and wretches until I think she can't puke anymore, and then she vomits again.

When she's finally finished, I flush the toilet and she rests her face on seat. I rub her back slowly and take her in. She smells awful. Her skin is pasty and she has vomit crusted on the side of her mouth. I dampen a washcloth in the sink and wipe off her mouth, her face. I run it over the back of her neck and through her fingers. She just rests her head on the toilet and looks at me. She looks at me like she's trying to figure something out. Her gray eyes flicker and despite her current state, I think she looks like the most beautiful girl I've ever seen.

When it seems like the episode might be over, I flush the toilet one last time and pull her up off the floor. I walk her over to the bed slowly. She manages to swing her bare legs over the side and I pull the blankets up over her. I draw the curtains and hear her sigh in relief. I set a glass of water on her nightstand and slowly close the door.

Downstairs, I decide to clean the mess in the living room first. I dig out Katniss's broom and dustpan and sweep up the glass. I drag the couch back where it belongs and grab my belt from across the room. I assume Katniss will be starving when she finally gets up, so I decide to make her favorite – cheese buns. As I knead the dough I think back over the evening. It wasn't pretty. It wasn't OK. But in the end, I think it will bring us closer. I am not just here for the happy parts. I want all of it.

I let the buns rise and finally put them in the oven. After a while, I go to check on them when I feel Katniss wrap her arms around my waist from behind. I don't need to see her. I'd know her body, her smell, her hands anywhere. I spin around inside her arms and put my hands on the counter behind us. She's trapped between me and the counter, and she squeezes her arms tighter around my waist before relaxing into me. Her head finds a familiar place on my chest, and she is quiet for a while, listening to my heart thud an ode.

"I'm so sorry, Peeta," she breathes into my shirt. Shame is written all over her face. She knows she crossed a line last night. I wrap my arms around her and rest my chin on her head. I can forgive her for last night. I don't think she knew the effect the champagne would have on her. She doesn't like being out of control, and she wouldn't have purposefully put herself in that state.

"No more alcohol, okay? You clearly have no tolerance for it."

"Okay." Katniss nods in agreement. I can tell she means it. It's a promise. I feel relieved, and I think she does, too.

I pull a cheese bun off the pan and hand it to her. She sits on a stool, pulls it apart with her fingers and watches as the cheese stretches and steam escapes. I hear her stomach churn and she looks up at my sheepishly. Her hair is mussed with sleep. She's wearing nothing but my tee shirt. Her long, slender legs stretch until just her tip toes touch the floor. Her shoulder peeks out from the collar of my shirt. She looks like what I imagine heaven feels like. I feel my eyes sweeping her body and I can't stop.

"Peeta Mellark, are you checking me out?" Katniss teases, snapping me out of the moment. I pull my gaze to her eyes.

"Sorry, but you are sitting there with your bare legs and my old tee shirt hanging off your shoulder. It's kind of like a fantasy of mine come true."

"Oh?" She hitches the tee shirt up a little more, exposing more of her legs and until the bottom seam of her underwear is exposed. It's a bright, creamy satin color. My heart thuds in my chest as she continues the terrifying journey up. Her fingers flutter over the inside of her upper thigh and it is the sexiest thing I've ever seen. I feel myself pulling toward her until I'm right in front of her at the stool. I ghost the tips of my fingers over where hers were just moments ago. Her skin is soft and she runs her lips along my cheek. I feel my eyes roll into the back of my head. Her mouth just nips my earlobe, and she whispers, "So you still want me?" I gulp and nod my head. "Good," she whispers, and pulls herself away. "I've got to shower." I want to spin her around and crash my body into hers, feel my want against her skin, but she skips up the stairs and leaves me alone in the kitchen, clutching the stool. That girl. I want that girl.


	12. Chapter 24 - Peeta

**CHAPTER 24 - PEETA**

Katniss shows up the next morning early, before I've even started my baking. Before I'm even out of bed. She creeps into my room and crawls under the sheet with me. It's practically dark out, the sun is just peeking over the trees.

"Hey," I say with a soft, morning voice, my eyes still closed. I pull her into me. "Well this is a pleasant surprise."

"I want to take you somewhere," she whispers, hooking her legs with mine. She kisses my mouth softly. "Get up."

I smile into the kiss and roll on top of her. Katniss Everdeen is in my bed, and I'm not sure I'll ever leave. I press kisses down her neck, and I feel her writhe beneath me and her skin prickle in excitement.

"Nope!" she says as she pulls out from underneath me. "Let's go!"

I roll over with a defiant groan. "I have to shower." She rolls her eyes at me and then bends down and places one last kiss on my lips. It's understated. Subtle. Like a habit, like she's planning on kissing me this way a million times in our life. I melt into my sheets.

"Okay, I'll go pack some food. Put on your hiking shoes." She swoops out of my room, almost with a sing-songy step. She's happy. She's happy.

I fasten my leg for the quick trip to the shower and take it off again before I jump in. I drop the water temperature until it's almost frigid. I need to cool down. But there was just a beautiful girl in my bed, and I don't see that happening. Even the cold water isn't enough to calm my body down, and I take deep breaths. The sooner I'm out of here, the sooner I see her. I push shampoo through my hair and run a bar of soap over my body. I shut off the water and climb out. I dry my leg and attach the prosthetic. I brush my teeth, spit some toothpaste in the sink, and wrap the towel around my waist.

I wonder what we're doing. The way the house is heating up, it's going to be warm. I grab a smaller hand towel and rub it vigorously through my hair. I don't quite realize I'm not alone, and when Katniss shifts her weight on my bed I leap back.

"Oh my God, you scared me," I say, my hand on my chest. "I thought you were downstairs."

"Do you shower with your leg on?" she teases, and I blush.

"Oh. No, but I wore it in, so…" I look up to meet her eye, but her gaze is wandering down my torso. I feel alive. "What exactly are you staring at Katniss? You seem like you're in a trance."

"Nothing!" She blushes involuntarily. "Just wanted you to know I'm ready when you are." She flits out of the room and bounces down the stairs. I dress in a tee shirt and shorts, meet her in the kitchen, and we head into the woods.

I've never been as comfortable out in the woods as Katniss. In a way, they remind me of our Games. I never spent any time out here before, but I know to Katniss this is a second home. She looks more at ease here than anywhere. She grabs her bow, but doesn't hunt. We chat idly about nothing. The others. Whatever Haymitch is working on. I joke about Haymitch burning his house down, and it reminds me of a story from my childhood. I relish these moments when memories come back so easy. When there's nothing to decipher.

Rye and I were kids, and had been playing with this fort Rye had made out of leftover parchment paper. It was really intricate. He'd cut out windows and even made a draw bridge. But we were naïve kids, and he wanted to put his fort on top of a mountain, so we chose the biggest oven. Needless to say, it caught on fire. Flames jutted out in every direction. I wanted to douse it with water, but Rye was so upset his fort was burning that he tried to blow it out like birthday candles instead.

"Oh no!" Katniss exclaims, giggling.

"Oh yes!" I laugh. I continue telling her that the flames shot up and scorched the wall behind the stove before I managed to put it out. Later that night, when my mother saw what happened, she turned an evil eye to Bannock, whom she knew she could break with just a glare. He ratted us out. I get quiet. I remember this story doesn't have a happy ending.

"Then what happened?" she asks.

I just shake my head and keep walking.

"Peeta?" She speeds up her pace and until she reaches me and takes my hand. "Look at me."

I stop walking and look at the forest floor. What am I going to say? That my mother threw a glass of water in my face? That it smashed into my nose and blood and shards of glass exploded all over the kitchen? That I haven't been drawing parallels from last night to that night over and over again in my mind? No wonder that memory was so close to the surface. I kick a small stick with my shoe. I don't want to talk about this. We were happy this morning.

Katniss grabs both sides of my face and forces my eyes to hers. "I'm sorry," she says.

I break away from her and dig the toe of my shoe into the earth. "It was a long time ago, Katniss. You have nothing to be sorry about."

"I threw something at you." I swallow. I can't talk about this. She steps forward and weaves her fingers through mine. It feels impossibly good, being close to her, but I just want to pull away. I can't decipher what from this is real. "I will never, ever, do anything like that ever again. I am not her. I will never hurt you."

"You probably would have said the same thing before the dance, too. That you'd never do that," I say firmly. I want to eat my words. What am I doing? "Look, it's fine. I just don't want to talk about it anymore. Let's go to the lake." I start to walk away, but she wraps her arms around my waist and pulls my body into hers.

"Peeta, I love…" I cut her off. I _don't_ want to hear that.

"Don't do that. Don't say that now. Don't ruin that for me. If you say it now, I'll always wonder if it was because you really wanted to say it, or because you felt like you had to." I'm frustrated now. "I get it, you know? The owing thing. I may not be from the Seam, but I don't want you to say that because you owe me something." I look her right in the eyes. "When you say that to me, I want it to be because you are so madly in love with me that you can't not say it. Because it's real. Not because you owe me." I turn to walk away from her, and she grabs my hand. Why can't she drop this? I don't push her about what Gale did. I don't want to talk about it.

"I will never hurt you," she looks me dead in the eye.

"Don't make a promise you can't keep."

"I'm not." She kisses me softly, and I feel my resolve shatter.

I let out a shaky breath. "Okay."

The rest of the walk is mostly in silence, until we come upon the lake. I've never been out here, but it's every bit as stunning as she makes it sound. The water on lake is clear like glass. The surface is smooth. At the edge of the shore are plants and flowers, quenching themselves greedily, blooming and bright. It's serene. I want to paint it.

"Sometimes it's almost like I can still feel my dad when I'm out here," Katniss says as she drags a finger across the surface of the water. Ripples shoot out from her like a race.

"Sometimes I go to where the bakery used to be. I try to find my dad, but I can't." I don't feel anything there but grief. I don't feel closer to him. The rubble makes him feel even more distant. More out of reach.

"I didn't know you did that, Peeta," she says, and I give her a small smile. I need to change the topic or I'm going to be lost all day in thoughts of my dad.

"Remember when you taught me how to swim?" I ask.

"You think you can _swim_?"

"I can keep my head above water," I boast.

"Barely." She stands up and slips out of her clothes effortlessly. I can't help but run my eyes over her body. She is slender, but muscular. Her hair flows over her olive skin. I trace my way down to the seam of her underwear, and I hear her chastise me, "Turn around!" I twist my body away from her, but the heat on my face is burning my cheeks. I dig into my bag and pull out a sketch pad. I return my gaze to Katniss, watching her float silently in middle of the lake.

My fingers have a mind of their own, and before I know it I've transformed her into a creature of the sea on the page. Katniss pulls herself into shore and contemplates me silently. I feel her staring, but I keep my eyes on the paper.

"I was really surprised Johanna could swim," she says. "After, you know…"

"That's not how they hurt her," I reply casually, and when I look up Katniss's face is twisted in an emotion I can't define. Pity? Sadness? Disgust? "I just mean she wasn't submerged. It's the drops… like in a shower…"

"Or in the rain," she says wistfully, not here with me.

"Yeah, it's the sensation of the droplets hitting her skin." I keep sketching while Katniss swims around a bit more. She floats in the shallow water in front of me, on her stomach, fingertips grazing the gravelly lake floor.

"Whatcha drawing?" she asks playfully. I hesitate for a moment and turn my sketchpad to her. She tilts her head as she makes a quizzical expression with her face. "Am I a… a mermaid?" Yes. That's the word. I smile at her brightly.

She fidgets in the water. "Come swim with me…" she flirts. She's flirting with me.

"I thought I didn't know how to swim?" I flirt back. She rolls her eyes, but I pull my shirt over my head and join her in the water. It is unspeakably cold. Frigid isn't the right word. Icy? This is awful. How are her lips not blue?

"Cold! Cold! Very cold!" I stay on my tiptoes to save even one extra inch of skin from being submerged. I keep my arms above water.

"Welcome to swimming in September. Hot days, cold nights." Her smirk is to die for.

"You're lucky I like you," I say before I bite the bullet and submerge my arms. We splash around for a bit. Katniss teaches me a couple different strokes, which come easy to me. My strength is in my arms, and I can pull myself through the water with ease. It's the buoyancy part I struggle with. I can't just – let go. Katniss swims over to me and drapes her arms around my neck. Our bodies are cold, and she wraps her legs around my waist and pulls herself into me. It's quiet. All we can hear is the slow splash of the water on our bodies. My own pulse hammers in my ears.

Katniss leans down and kisses me. Slowly. With purpose, like she's trying to tell me something with just her mouth. I kiss her back with the same unhurried, measured intent. I want to know her. I want to know every part of her. I want it to be me and her, like it has been all along and like it should be forever. I think she feels it too, because our delicate kissing transforms into something heated and passionate. She's all over me, and I'm all over her. She's breathing erratically and digging her nails into his back, trying to claw me in closer. I need her so much closer. I need every part of her.

My hands glide down her stomach skim the edge of her underwear. I can feel her heart pounding and mine responds in kind. I can't rip my eyes from hers – stone gray and full of wonder. I want to feel her. I want to be part of her. My eyes entreat hers, and she nods her head feverishly yes. I don't hesitate a moment before slipping my hand into her underwear, and she gasps into me. It echoes across the silent lake and she presses her mouth in the crook of my neck to muffle the sound. She's soft and exciting and… she's happy. I take a breath before I slip a finger inside her. She moans into my neck and I press a kiss into hers. She is tight and hot compared to the chilly lake, and I feel like I'm in heaven. She starts thrusting lightly against me and all of my realities just drop away. It's her and me and this moment. I curl another finger into her and I feel the blood rush through my body. She groans and I can feel myself churn in pleasure. She knots her fingers in my hair and I moan into her soaked, dark locks that swirl around us in the water. This is the happiest I've ever been. Here. In this moment. Just us.

The sudden crack of a branch in the woods has Katniss and I leaping apart from one another. When we realize it's nothing, we both look at each other and laugh. We get out of the lake. Our wet underclothes cling to our bodies and my eyes run over her. Her scars, her burns, healed over and jagged like mine. I remember burning with her. I remember everything with her. I have more clarity in this moment than I've had since before my capture. It's her. It's always been her, through the pain, through the pushing away and reaching for each other, through the separation, through our unity. Through her hands weaved in mine, mine in hers. Her hair on my pillow, my shirt on her skin. Through the tears and joy, I have always loved her. Loving her is like breathing. My lungs may be burned and charred, but I can breathe again. I can breathe, and it feels so good.

She looks up and smiles at me, and she means it. She's here with me. I'm absolutely elated, and I grin right back.


	13. Chapter 25 - Johanna

**CHAPTER 25 - JOHANNA**

Our return from the Capitol couldn't come soon enough. While Gale is in his element, I have no interest in being around those schmoozy politicians with their fake smiles and their firm handshakes. They remind me too much of Gamemakers.

While he's shepherded from meeting to ceremony, I'm stuck with Ditz & Tits, as I've started to call Delly and Effie in my head. While both women have grown on me individually, they are simply intolerable together. The screeching and the shrieking and the pointing and the clothes… I bet Effie even smiled in her cell. Even captivity couldn't keep her from being chipper as a bird. A caged bird still sings, after all.

I miss Katniss. I need a good scowl.

I'm grateful to be on the train home. I toss our suitcase on the bed and sequester Gale in our room. He goes to take a shower, and I am thankful to see him out of the suit and tie. When he comes back into our room, I'm lying on the bed clad only in lingerie I purchased in the Capitol. His jaw drops. The top is black and a ragged lace, see-through in scandalous ways. The panties are red, with lace at the hems. Stockings run up my legs and stop mid-thigh, strapped to the garter belt that sits low on my waist. I can see Gale's excitement pressing into his pajama pants. "I…"

"Well, are you going to just stand there?" I ask, and he leaps to the bed and ravishes me. When I hear Ditz & Tits rapping on the door, I let out a particularly loud moan and clench myself around Gale. He groans into me, and there is a hurried click-clack of tiny heels fleeing down the hall. Good.

That night, when the lights fall low and the lull of the train is rocking us like a lullaby, I sit with my back against the headboard, Gale's head in my lap. His arms wrap around my waist, and my hands trace the scars that run up and down his back. I saw a bit of it on TV – everyone in Panem did. I was tortured behind closed doors, but the whole country heard his screams. I asked Katniss about it back home. She told me more details than I think I wanted to know. I imagine him lying on her kitchen table, dripping blood onto the floor while his mother is stuck home, caring for a sick little one. I met Hazel in the Capitol. She hugged me tighter than I've ever been held. I wanted to flinch, but I let her pull me in until I remembered what it felt like to have a mom. Posy was obsessed with my hair. I couldn't get her fingers out of it.

"Why didn't you have these polished off?" I ask, lazily streaking my fingers over each lash from the whip.

"Because I want to remember," he says quietly as he buries his face in my legs.

"Do you really think you wouldn't remember?" I ask. "If they were gone?" He doesn't say anything for a while.

"Why did you get yours polished away?" he asks.

"Because I want to forget," I whisper. He props himself up on his elbows and meets my eyes.

"Do you really think you'd forget?" Gale pulls me down into him and wraps his arms around me. I let him cover my body; I let him keep the world out. He presses his mouth into my back and kisses me slowly. "I love you, Johanna Mason." I still can't believe this is real.

"I love you, too."

When we arrive in District 12 the next morning, Katniss, Peeta, and Haymitch are all waiting at the train station. Effie greets Haymitch with a peck on the cheek and loads his arms full of bags to carry to her house. Delly piles some of hers on top as well. Haymitch follows Effie to her house, and the rest of us all head to our place. He throws a pitiful look our direction, and I blow him a kiss.

The short distance between the train and our house is the longest Gale and I have been separated since the start of the train ride. We head to the back hall, he sets the bags down, and I wrap myself around his back. He turns his head and kisses me gently, but I escalate. I grab his shirt and pull him into me, tracing his mouth with my tongue. Delly and Peeta are in the living room, and I can see Katniss looking to fix some food in the kitchen. We have a minute. He presses me into the wall and I pull his hips into me. He moans quietly into my ear, and in turn I slide my hand into his pants.

"Johanna, don't! They can hear… Oh god," he tries to fight me until I wrap my fingers around him. He bites his lip in an attempt to muffle the sounds he can't stop himself from making. Gale is a good deal taller than me, but I reach my free hand around and pull his ass into me. My other hand is moving faster, stroking him up and down until he loses control. He shakes and I press my mouth into his to muffle the groan, but I'm sure our houseguests heard. I don't care.

Gale looks at me, red and flushed, and races up the stairs. I smirk and follow him. He sticks his head out of the bathroom, grinning at me like an idiot. "Are you crazy?" he asks, the smile growing wider with each second.

"Oh, most definitely. You married crazy. Was that not clear from the start?"

He rolls his eyes at me and ducks back inside. After a few minutes he comes out, changes his clothes, and kisses me on my head.

"I don't know what has gotten into you," he grins.

"I do…" I wink, and he rolls his eyes and ducks out the door. I clean up in the bathroom and toss my clothes in the hamper. I started sleeping in Gale's room after he decided to stay. After we got married, Gale moved everything he could find in my bedroom here. It was sort of adorable. He wants it to be our room. Our space. In our house. He loves being married. He tells me every single day.

I brush my hair and sit on the stairs for a bit. I can hear Delly chatting Peeta's ear off about marble bathrooms. I turn my attention to the kitchen where Gale is boring Katniss with talk about the government. That poor girl. I married it, but she didn't ask to hear about the economy, and tax systems, and oh good! Infrastructure. I hear her shift the conversation to Gale and me.

"So things are… good?" Katniss asks.

"Things are great. Being with her is the best decision I've ever made," he says.

"Falling in love with someone isn't a decision," she says. Maybe not, but he chose to stay here with me.

"I decided to jump off the train. Life's full of decisions," he says back. At that moment, I sweep back into the room and deposit myself on his lap. I begin nibbling on his ear, and when I dart my tongue out, Katniss disappears.

"That wasn't nice." Gale says.

"I agree. Why are you torturing that poor girl talking about roads and bridges?" I bite his earlobe and he leans into me.

"Ahem." Haymitch clears his throat. Gale pulls away to look at him, but I latch on harder with my mouth.

"Sorry, Haymitch," Gale stammers. "What can I do you for?"

"Just stopping by to say hello. Invite you to dinner. Ask how your trip was." He's giving us a wicked grin. I flip my head over and look at him upside-down.

"Marvelous darling, and how _ever_ was your time at home?" I retort in a clipped Capitol accent. He laughs at me and asks where Katniss is. I point to the living room and pull myself back to Gale's neck. Haymitch dismisses himself and wanders into the other room. I hear another "Ahem," and I know he's caught Katniss and Peeta too. We overhear him.

"You two are just as bad as the newlyweds." Gale and I grin at each other.

"What do you want, Haymitch?" Katniss says. She sounds flustered. I wonder what he walked into.

"I'm just letting you all know that you are formally invited to a welcome home party at my place tonight," he replies.

"How come they got a formal invitation and all we got was a dirty look?" I whisper to Gale. He smirks.

"At your place?" I hear Peeta ask.

"Are you… cooking food?" Katniss sounds hesitant and I stifle a laugh.

After a moment, Haymitch returns to the kitchen and tells Gale and me to look presentable. Nice even. He heads out the door, and I slink into the living room and look at Katniss with seductive eyes. "We're supposed to look pretty. Think you can manage it, stupid?" Katniss shakes her head and I pounce. "Girls night! Come on! Let's go over to Effie's and we'll get all pretty-like for the boys." I wink at Gale over my shoulder, and Katniss groans.

"Johanna, you are telling me that you will voluntarily go into the house where frills went to die, lock yourself in a room with Effie and Delly, and tell them they can dress us up like that porcelain freak of a doll Delly has?" she asks.

"No, I'm saying I'll lock you in there and then take a shot of white liquor every time Effie suggests feathers or Delly asks when you and Peeta are going to get married," I retort. She gives me the most incredulous look and I burst out laughing. "Okay, how about just you and me?" Katniss agrees, and I take her hand and lead her out the front door. I missed her while we were gone. I need my partner-in-scowl.

We dig around in Katniss's basement until we find the bag of dresses Cinna sent home with her. We drag them up to her bedroom and plow through them. When I find an emerald green dress with a plunging neckline, I pull it to my chest and leap to the bathroom. I'm not one for modesty, I just want the mirror. I slip the dress over my head and it slides over my body. It feels smooth and refined. The neckline is verging on criminal, and I imagine Gale's face when he sees me.

I step out of the bathroom and see Katniss. She's wearing a pale orange number that reminds me of morning. It hangs on her body beautifully, hugging her waist and dropping low in the back. She looks… happy. In love. Like I've wanted her to look since she gave me that sack of pine needles in District 13. I can't help but smile.

"Cinna really knew how to drape," she says shyly.

"He had a muse," I say back.

Katniss unweaves her braid and I run some balm through her hair, twisting pieces around my fingers until it hangs in curls at her shoulders. I remember doing the same with Poppy. I shake my head and push that memory away. I can't think of her. Not yet. Instead, I take in this beautiful, feminine, safe moment between Katniss and me. I run the leftover balm through my hair and sweep it to one side.

The clock says we are ready early, so we lay side-by-side on her bed, facing the ceiling. I weave my fingers through hers. It's quiet. It's content. It's honest.

"You've changed," she whispers quietly.

"I like it," I say, and squeeze her hand tight in mine. My little sister.

"Me too," she say back.

A moment passes, and I can't help but add, "If you tell anyone I said that, I'll smother you with this pillow."


	14. Chapter 27 - Peeta

**CHAPTER 27 – PEETA**

We both slept through the night like the world isn't a scary place. Like it's okay to close our eyes. I held Katniss for a long time after she fell asleep, just staring at her. There was nothing shiny about last night. It was real. It was grounded and genuine. She loves me. And now, I feel her stirring next to me. My eyes are too heavy to wake fully and pull her into me, but I don't want this moment to end. This perfect, quiet moment. But the lazy morning is dragging me back under. "I love you," I think I hear her whisper softly, and I drift to a dream.

When I feel the cold sheets next to me, panic rises in my stomach and the wakefulness I sought earlier surges forward. I sit up, looking around the room frantically. It was real, I know it was. Wasn't it? But she's gone and I'm alone. The bathroom door creeps open, and Katniss tiptoes into the room, a blanket wrapped around her body. I feel the worry thaw away from me like snow on a warm March day, and she grins and leaps into bed playfully. I wrap my arms tight around her, certain I'll never let her go again.

"For a second I thought maybe it wasn't real. Like I just had the best dream of my life," I confess.

She smiles at me shyly and my heart feels like it might explode from my chest. "It was real," she says, and presses her mouth to mine. She tastes like mint and morning.

"No fair! You brushed your teeth! I'm sure my breath is horrible," I say, pulling away and clapping my hand over my mouth. I'm sure I stink of last night's dinner. Katniss throws her legs on either side of my hips and pushes her mouth insistently back on mine.

"I like the way you taste," she whispers as she stroke my lips with her tongue. I'm going to melt into the bed. I open my mouth slightly and her tongue finds mine. At first it's gentle, like she wants to say hello, but quickly I feel the heat emanating between our two bodies. She dips her tongue into my mouth and it's impossibly soft and wet against my own. It's dirty and sensitive and erotic all at the same time, and I'm quickly there again with her. She grinds her heat into me and I groan into her mouth. I kiss her desperately, my hands in her hair. Last night was slow and experimental and fun, but now I just want to press her into the sheets and make love to her.

Downstairs, we hear the front door slam and Haymitch calls up, "Are you still in bed, Mockingjay? It's almost 10."

Katniss scowls fiercely in the direction of his voice, but I cup her face in my hands and she relaxes into me.

"Come on, let's go make the old man breakfast." She rolls her eyes, nods, and slips her body off mine. It feels cold and I want her back pressed against me, but she tosses me some clothes from my drawer. As I pull the shirt over my head, I pop my head out of the collar to find her paused, back to me.

"I think you should bring all your clothes here, not just a drawer," she says, as if it's the most normal thing in the world. As if living with me is as normal to her as brushing her hair. She wants me to live here. With her.

I feel myself beaming. "Okay."

We head downstairs. Both Haymitch and Effie are sitting at our bar chatting with one another. Effie laughs and puts her hand on Haymitch's leg. When she sees us on the stairs, she quickly withdraws it. I pull my large mixing bowl from the cabinet and begin adding ingredients for pancakes – flour, sugar, eggs, vanilla... Katniss pulls herself up next to me, so our hips are touching as I stir the batter. She's not normally close like this when other people are around, but she watches my hands and says softly, "Maybe all your kitchen stuff, too?" She wants me here with her. All of me. Every breath, every bowl, every thing I have. I feel a smile stretch across my face and keep my eyes on the batter. I can play this cool, too.

"Okay," I say.

I plate the pancakes and dig some maple syrup from the cabinet. The four of us sit around the kitchen table and talk idly. It's like how it was in the beginning. Just us. In the corner of my eye I see Effie dip a napkin into her glass of water, and then it's headed toward my face. It's too late, I try to evade her but she's wiping my cheek as if I'm a child. I writhe and pull away, but not before Katniss and Haymitch are laughing uncontrollably. I give her a nasty look, which she says doesn't suit me, and I can't hold it for too long. It's Effie, after all.

When they leave, Katniss helps me with the dishes. It's normal. It's ordinary. It's comfortable. It's what I want to happen every day for the rest of my life. When I dry and rack the last plate, I look back at her. She's pulling the plug from the drain and drying her hands on a cloth. Her hair is messy, her shirt thin over her breasts. I feel jealous of the cotton brushing her nipples. I grab her hand and pull her into me. I kiss her like she wants me to – in this slow, deliberate manner that has become our custom. It means I love you. It means I want to know every part of you. It means stay here with me.

"What do you want to do today?" she asks as she wraps her arm around my neck and looks up at me.

"What I want and what I need to do are two very different things," I say, grinning devilishly at her.

I tell her I have to go to Town. I need to make a decision about the bakery, and I told Thom I'd know this week. I can't decide here, away from it all. I need to be there. If I stand in the bakery, it will tell me what to do. I have a hard time even being near it, but today – with Katniss – I can do anything. As we walk down the street, I tell her about my dad. How much he loved Prim. How he loved her mother. How he loved her. How he felt a duty to care for the Everdeen girls. The family that could have been his.

"I know I didn't know him that well, but I miss your dad, too," Katniss says. In a way, her carrying the grief with me makes it lighter. I think back to the night in the kitchen, when she thanked me for loving Prim. I wonder if this is what she felt.

Our feet carry us forward, and before long we are in the center of town. I smile and greet people, trying to stay as normal as possible. Katniss keeps to herself, but that's what normal is for her too. When we reach the remains of the bakery, I feel my pace slow. I drag my feet. The air feels too sticky to breathe, and I try to calm myself.

There's nothing left of the bakery. Not really. It's not even recognizable. The site has mostly been cleared; just the foundation remains. Thom told me they found my family's bodies inside. It was before Katniss and I had come home to 12. It was during the trial, and no one knew if we were coming back for sure. He said they buried my parents and brothers on the eastmost edge of the Meadow. I go there sometimes, at night. When the day has burned off and the cool of the evening brings a stillness. Noiseless. Low.

I can't feel them here, the way Katniss feels her dad in the woods. I step over the foundation and pace the frame of what was once my home. I linger by where the ovens used to be. My family is not here. This is just the place where they died.

I don't hear Katniss approach, and she wraps her arms around my waist and presses her chest into my back. The days are still hot – her shirt is thin and I can feel every bit of her against me. She slides a hand to mine and pushes something hard into it. I look and see one of the knobs from the oven. Metal doesn't bruise, but it's been hurt. Beat up like the rest of us. Scratched, the shine worn and burned away. I feel my legs go weak and slide down Katniss's body to the ground.

Everything in me is strung tight. This place should be hallowed ground for me, but all I see now is my family burning. My childhood wasn't like most kids. I don't think my mother ever loved me. There was pain and torment. But beyond all that, my dad laughed with a twinkle in his eye. Bannock was steadfast. Rye was generous and kind. So like my dad. They deserve more than this dirt.

Katniss squats to the ground with me. She pulls me into her, and rubs small, concentric circles in my back. I give in to her comfort. I am not alone. I am not without family. She is my family. Her and Effie, who wipes syrup from my face in a way my mother never would have. And Haymitch, who pats me on the shoulder and watches out for me. Delly, the sister I never had and always wanted. Johanna, the only person besides Katniss I've loved more than my own life. And Gale, who has begun to open up to me.

There was one evening when he and Johanna stayed late after dinner, and the four of us sat out on the front lawn in the summer night. Katniss and Johanna laid their heads in our laps, counting the stars and feeling small and insignificant, but in a good way. After what we've all been through, sometimes it's good to feel like you don't matter to the rest of the world. Like you can just live your own life. They dozed off, and Gale and I talked all night, each with a sleeping girl in our lap. We talked about the War. About Katniss and Johanna. He is so in love with her. We talked about what we wanted in life. About our own vices and weaknesses. About the strength of our new, odd family. About kids. We talked forever about kids. And Katniss. And Katniss and kids. I lost my brothers, but maybe I'll find another one in Gale. Someday.

"We should rebuild," I whisper.

"Okay," she whispers back.

She wraps her arms around my shoulders and holds me for a long time. We are exposed. There is no privacy in the shell of the bakery. No walls. It's just Katniss and me, and the ghosts. Just a few yards away the world moves on without us. Katniss normally would pull away but she stays here with me. Steady. Present. She intertwines one of my hands with hers and pulls it to up to her lips. It's intimate, and it keeps me grounded here. I can rebuild. I can have a family here. My dad would want me to.

But as she pulls her lips away, the flash of a camera bulb explodes in our faces. Katniss jolts as if I'm molten, and the bulbs flash again and again. I pull my eyes away from her for just a second, and she's gone. She's leapt over the foundation and is fleeing to the woods. Her eyes are wild and unfocused.

"KATNISS!" I scream and try to keep her here in this plane with me, but in her mind she is not here. She's somewhere dangerous, where flashing bulbs mean pain and death. I grab the camera from the man's hands. He tries to protest through his neon polished nails, and I smash the camera into the ground. It's fruitless. There are more camera people. Still frames, live motion, surrounding the bakery like the pack of Mutts circling the cornucopia. I take a cue from Katniss. I run.


	15. Chapter 28 - Johanna

**CHAPTER 28 - JOHANNA**

The knocking on our door continues relentlessly until I finally roll out of bed. So much for sleeping in. Gale is dead to the world, but I throw on a shirt and make my way to the front door. I've no sooner unlatched the lock than Peeta comes flying into my living room. His eyes are wild. For a moment I panic. He's in a flashback. Then I remind myself that's not what his flashbacks look like anymore. There is something very real and near wrong.

"Where's Gale? I need Gale," he paces, his voice in a panic.

"Hey, hey there. Calm down, Peet. What's wrong? Where's Katniss?" I take a step forward, but he doesn't calm. With each passing second his grows more agitated and panicked. It's unnerving.

"WHERE'S GALE?!" he cries out. He's not yelling at me, he's yelling at the situation, but Gale bounds down the stairs defensively.

"Back off, Mellark," Gale states as he inserts himself physically between us. Ugh. Boys are dumb.

"I need your help." Peeta trips and stumbles over his words as he explains what happened. The bakery. The camera. Katniss sprinting to the woods. "I tried to keep up with her, but I can't with my leg." He looks at Gale desperately. "No one knows those woods like you. You know where she'd go."

"I'm sure she's alright. She probably just needed time to process," Gale starts. The words are supposed to be comforting, but they just frustrate Peeta.

"You didn't see her. She was out of her mind. She…"

"If Peeta says something's wrong, something's wrong." I state. I've seen Katniss go catatonic before. There are miles of woods out there, and the nights are getting cold. We only have a finite number of daylight hours as the days are getting shorter. Better safe than sorry. I look at Peeta. "Give us a second to get dressed and we'll come with you."

"I'm getting Haymitch. I'll meet you out front," Peeta says before racing out the front door.

I start up the stairs and feel Gale's heavy footfall behind me. It's intentional. He's coming begrudgingly.

"Sometimes I feel like he doesn't know her at all. Maybe she just wanted some time alone, and now we are sending a search party into the woods. She'll hate us for it." He pulls a pair of slacks up his legs and a shirt over his head.

I just keep quiet. It's unattractive, his competitive streak with Peeta. It's not even about Katniss anymore. They've worked through that. When it boils down to it, Gale is not a Victor. He doesn't know what it's like. He can listen, and soothe, and empathize, but he doesn't know what it's like. I will always be linked to Peeta in a way he can't understand. The same way I'm linked to Katniss. Maybe the Katniss he knew before the Games would have wanted some alone time in the woods, but that's not where we are anymore. The Victors – all of us – are damaged goods. And we need to stick together. I pull a jacket from the closet and we meet the crew in the courtyard.

Haymitch and Peeta are already talking strategy – stay together until we lose her trail, then divide to cover more ground. Effie and Delly have packed food and water, which they stuff into Haymitch's backpack. They both want to come, but they have a role to fulfill. Distract the reporters.

We finally set off to the woods. Peeta shows us where Katniss jumped the fence, and Gale follows her trail. It's erratic and uneven – she darts in one direction, then another. As if she's being hunted. Pursued. Gale is a practiced hunter, but he will never know what it's like to be on the other end. To be prey.

When the trail runs cold, we all agree to split up. Gale heads to the lake. He'll make good time, and he can check the stream while he's out there. Peeta makes his way to Katniss and Gale's hunting rendezvous. Haymitch wanders a perimeter around where we lost her. While the rest of them waste their time, I keep my eyes in the trees. I know where my Mockingjay would hide.

Hours pass fruitlessly. The sun sets, and the woods are overcome with the eerie glow of dusk. Night animals begin to come alive. Peeta makes it back first, and is desperate when he sees me alone. He crumples to his knees, and I meet him on the ground.

"Peeta. You'd know if something was wrong." He nods. He knows that. I used to tell him that in our cells, when he'd panic about Katniss in the lost hours of night. I'd squeeze his hand through the bars. "You'd know," I would whisper, and he'd nod his head and lay his face against the concrete. She always lingered in his mind, just beyond reach.

He stands and pulls me into him, his body shaking. I rock us slowly, humming. His body calms. In the dark of our cells, I reserved my anger and hatred for the Capitol. I wouldn't let them break me. They could burn my skin, break my bones, but they'd have to stare me in the eyes while they did it. But in the quiet hours of the night after our tormentors had retired for the day, after they'd gone home to their wives and children, we'd let ourselves cry into the blackness. And even through my tears, I'd defy them by loving Peeta. Loving Annie. They weren't going to break me. They couldn't break us if we stayed together. Peeta listens to me hum and sighs into my shoulder. "I'm so scared," he whispers, and I can barely hear him over the sounds of the forest at night.

"Me too, Peet. But we'll find her."

He steps back and shakes his hands out. The moment is over. He needs to focus. We hear Haymitch trudging back to us through the dead autumn leaves.

"Come on, kid, we'll come back out in the morning," Haymitch says.

"I'm not leaving here without her!" Peeta snaps back. His voice is desperate and worn. A soft wind cuts its way through the woods. The tops of the trees sway, and I look up. That's when I see it. One tree not swaying the same as the others.

"I checked the cabin by the lake," Gale says as he approaches our group. "She's not there."

Peeta lets out a sigh of exacerbation. He is struggling to maintain his composure, but the uncertainty is corroding his strength. I slip away from them, and grab onto the rough bark with my fingertips.

"She will be okay out here. She knows these woods," Gale says, patting his shoulder. Peeta shrugs him off.

"She wasn't in a good frame of mind, Gale," he says back. Dusk has all but evaporated, and moonbeams shimmer down through the trees. I hoist myself up to the first branch, and then agilely maneuver my way up. She's precariously high. I worry the branches may give out, but I keep climbing, hooking my feet close to the trunk. Katniss is pressed against the tree. Her eyes are dead. They've seen too many things.

When I reach her, I run my hand across her face and stroke her cheek with my thumb. "I got you, stupid," I whisper to her, and she comes tumbling back to reality. A watershed bursts, and she sobs into my arms. The rest of the search party has caught on, and I can hear their voices silence below. I see them straining to look up, but we are too high to see. I give her one more moment to grieve in this elevated avoidance. Her hands grip mine, and her fingers feel like ice. She's hardly wearing any clothes at all. "You are freezing," I whisper, and pull my coat from my body. Heat escapes through my skin as I wrap my coat around her. I take her frozen hands in mine and blow warm air onto them. I rub them between my own, and I see her carefully eyeing the ground. "I know this is your safe place, but it's time to come down." She nods slowly.

I take the lead, showing her the way down. I'm sure she doesn't remember climbing up. I leap to the ground and confirm she's right behind me. Katniss hangs from the last branch and drops. Peeta immediately wraps her in his arms.

"She's so cold," he says, taking his jacket off and adding it over mine. He pulls her into his chest, and Katniss just stands there for a minute. Stiff. Frightened. I'm about to step forward when I see her body language change, and she allows herself to mold into Peeta. From behind me, I feel Gale weave his fingers in mine. He wants to give me his jacket, I can tell, but I just shake my head.

"You want to go home?" I hear Peeta ask her quietly. Katniss nods her head yes. He wraps an arm around her waist and I come up along the other side. She's our girl, and we got her. That is how this family works. We are all broken, but we are all strong too. When one of us falls, the others catch them, and vice versa. Gale takes the lead and Haymitch trails behind.

"I don't think you should go home, kid," Haymitch says from the rear. "Effie said she saw reporters all over Victor's Village."

He's right. She'll just retreat back into her head and we'll lose her in a closet until they leave. "They could stay at Katniss's old place," I suggest.

"No," Katniss says quietly. She can speak. I squeeze her hip in encouragement.

"They can stay at my old house. In the Seam," Gale suggests. "It's a mess, but the chimney is still standing so they should be fine until we figure out something different tomorrow," We all nod and make our way out of the woods. It takes almost two hours walking to get to Gale's family's house in the Seam. Haymitch heads back to the Village to let Effie and Delly know we found her. Gale starts a fire and promises to return with supplies. I hold Katniss tight, and turn to Peeta.

"You OK?" I mouth.

"Yeah," he mouths back.

I catch Gale staring at us, and ignore him. Gale and I walk to Katniss's house and I pull him around the side. I point to where Katniss and I broke in through the kitchen window, and he hoists me up. I pull myself inside and leave the lights off. Don't want the reporters on our scent. I cautiously creep to the front door and let him in. I didn't realize how cold I felt until the wind was no longer biting my skin, but now we are both in the house I'm shaking.

Gale opens his coat and I step inside. He wraps it around both of us and I press my frozen body into his chest. The heat sinks in through my skin and I start relax.

"What do you think we should grab? Clothes? Water?" I ask.

"Water's a good idea. And maybe some food. I'm sure Katniss hasn't eaten all day." He heads to the kitchen and snags a loaf of bread from the counter. I run upstairs and grab some of Katniss's clothes, which are tossed into a drawer with no rhyme or reason. The next drawer I open is folded and neatly sorted. Peeta's. I grab some of his clothes as well and stuff them in the bag.

I pull the blanket from their bed and meet Gale at the bottom of the stairs. We head back over to the Hawthorne house. I hand Gale the items I'm carrying and he hesitates at the door before knocking. "That felt a little weird," he says. "Knocking on my old door."

I give him a half smile and Peeta answers the door. He puts his finger to his mouth and shushes us. Katniss must already be asleep. Gale ducks inside and I stand out in the cold. I don't want to make more commotion than we need to. After a moment, Gale pops back out.

"Home?" he asks.

"Home." I say. We walk silently as we weave our way back to Victor's Village. When we get to our house, I quickly strip off my clothes and pull on some thick socks and warm pajamas. When I come back downstairs, Gale has a fire blazing in the living room. I curl up on the carpet in front of the flames. Gale sits cross-legged in front of me. I rest my head in his lap and slide my hand under the cuff of his pants so I'm running my fingers along his ankle. We are quiet for a long time.

"You and Peeta are close, huh?" Gale asks. He doesn't meet my eyes. He keeps his gaze on my finger, tracing comfort on his skin.

"Yeah, Gale. We're close," I say.

"Sometimes, when you are sleeping, you scream his name," he says. "Like you can't reach him."

I don't want to talk about this. I try to keep it brief. "I've screamed his name a lot. Must be muscle memory." I stop stroking his leg. "You would have too, if you watched what they did to him." I stare into the fire. I love fire. I love watching it consume fuel; I love the sound of the crackle it makes when air bursts through a charcoaled piece of wood. Mostly, I love the dry heat that emanates from it. I prop myself up on my knees and take Gale's face in my hands.

"Look, we both have bonds the other will never understand. The Victors will always share a bond that you aren't a part of. The same way I share a bond with Peeta and Annie. The way that you share a bond with Katniss – because of your childhood, because of the War. I don't pretend to understand it, Gale. You too don't even need words to communicate with her. You think you are the one that should be jealous here? I see you two talk with your eyes. You duck away in the woods for hours at a time and I have no idea what you are up to." I pull myself into his lap and wrap my limbs around him. "I trust you, Gale. I'm not jealous. I know that you are connected to her. I am connected to her. Just like I am connected to Peeta." His eyes drop. "But this bond," I put my hand on his chest. "The you and me bond? This is the real deal, Hawthorne. I am your partner." I kiss his neck, and I hear the breath escape through his lips. "I am your friend." I kiss his cheek, tracing my way to my destination. "I am your wife." I say, and press my mouth to his. He kisses me back with an intensity I've never seen in him before. He pushes forward and my back is pressed into the carpet. His weight on top of me is electrifying.

"We almost lost her today," he whispers into my ear. We almost lost her. I nod my head.

"None of us were going to let that happen," I say, running my hands under his shirt and up the scars of his back.

"I was!" He sits back up and I prop myself up in my elbows. "I thought she just needed some breathing space! I thought she just wanted to be alone in the woods. I wouldn't have even started looking until she didn't show up for dinner. If it were up to me, she'd still be up in a tree, freezing to death!"

I sit up, grab his shirt, and pull him back down on top of me. Our lips are barely apart. His eyes glue to mine, ridden with shame and frustration. "You really believe that? That you would have just sat around all day, knowing none of us knew where she was?"

"No," he concedes. "I couldn't have done that."

"Obviously, you idiot." I say, and pull on his bottom lip with mine.

"I was just stupid today," he replies, guilt riddling his tone.

"You are allowed to be stupid for a minute," I say, and envelope his lips in mine. He tries to say more, but I stick my tongue in his mouth and he makes this sexy guttural sound that always turns me on. My hands wander, and he grabs them and presses them into the floor, hard.

"I need to say thank you," he whispers. "For being a good wife. For finding her. For loving me anyway." He slides his hands under my pants and pulls them from my legs. His mouth chases its way down my body. When his lips are on me, the day disappears and all I know is the feel of him. He slips a finger inside and I curl around him. I gasp, I scream, and I let my husband love me.


	16. Chapters 30-31 - Gale

**CHAPTERS 30-31 - GALE**

"I'm pleased to co-sponsor that bill with Senator Keen," I say to the camera, and offer a bright smile. This is the part of my job I hate, but if it will distract them from Katniss and Peeta for a while, then so be it. The reporter feigns interest, but I think most of what I said went over her head. Her follow-up doesn't really make a lot of sense, and I sort of ramble trying to loop back to the pharmaceutical bill. I've never been an expert on medicine, but bringing a factory to District 12 has been my top priority since joining the Senate.

The reporter nods, but over the shoulder of her magenta jacket, I see something off in the distance. A person is stumbling toward the Village. In the time it takes my brain to register what's happening, I'm already on my feet and sprinting toward Peeta. When I reach him, he collapses in front of me. He's bleeding everywhere. His torso is drenched in a hot, sanguine mess and blood drips from his mouth down his chin. His skin is pallid and he chokes on his words. He sounds like he's drowning. All I get is Katniss, hunting spot, run. And I do. I run like I've never run in my life. Even fleeing pods in the Capitol, running to reach something is different than trying to escape. And if Peeta is any indication, I need to reach Katniss. Fast. Out of the corner of my eye I see a crowd forming around Peeta. I hear Effie scream. It falls to the distance as I run.

The trees streak by me in a blur. She should only be a mile or so in, if she's still at our meeting place. I'm hoping she's had the sense to stay put. Peeta's blood forms a rambling path toward her, but I don't need its disturbing guidance to find my way. I could reach this place blindfolded. I know every foot placement, I know where the ground pitches forward and where roots sit precariously on the surface of the forest floor. I know my way to her. I have since I was a boy.

When our clearing comes into view, I don't see Katniss right away. I scream her name into the woods. The adrenaline is almost blinding. As my eyes come into focus I see her, a few feet away, crumpled in a pile of pine needles. The scent overwhelms my senses – pine mixed with blood and decaying leaves. The pool surrounding her is massive. The hungry, dry soil has drank most of it up, but I can see the crimson stains in the dirt. I slam down hard on my knees and pull her torso into mine.

"Catnip. Come on, Katniss, come on. Come back to me." She opens her eyes momentarily but they are dull and out of focus. Her stomach is bleeding and she's limp. I feel the panic start to overwhelm me, and I swallow it. I need to get her out of these woods if she has any chance. "Can you walk with me?" She shakes her head weakly. I didn't think so. "Come on then, wrap your arms around my neck." She does, and I push up and lift her into the air. Even with her arms around my neck, she's basically dead weight. She has no control over her body. It doesn't even feel like she's holding on to me. I don't care. I take off.

She's not easy to carry as her body is loose against my arms, but I don't dare sling her over my shoulder with her stomach the way it is. My feet slam the ground as I dash out of the forest. Katniss vomits on my chest. I don't know what it means and it freaks me out. I see the edge of the tree line coming into view and I feel relief building in my chest. When I jump the fallen remainder of the fence, I see a hovercraft sitting in Victor's Village. Cameras are flashing and reporters swarm me. Katniss is completely unconscious now, and I'm sure that's a very bad thing. I push through the mob, with questions flying and microphones in my face and cameras flashing, and I charge my way onto the hovercraft. Haymitch is already there, pacing. I am quickly surrounded by medical staff, and Katniss is relieved from my hands.

I watch helplessly as the medics whisk her away. The hovercraft doors close and the ship takes flight, and Katniss is wheeled into some sort of sick bay surrounded by glass. I remember something similar from watching the Games - Peeta being brought into a room like that, Katniss throwing herself at the glass, slamming her fists and screaming his name. It's when I realized things were real between them. Their lives no longer depended on each other, and yet she was absolutely wild at the thought of losing him. I remember pulling my eyes from the screen, unable to watch. Now, I can't rip my eyes from her. Doctors are in and out like birds at a feeder, each with their own purposes. I want to be in there with her, but I know I'd be in the way. I think I see her mother, but my eyes are too blurred with worry to distinguish faces or names at this point. Behind me, I feel Haymitch clap his hand on my shoulder. I pull back from the glass.

Haymitch and I have never been close. He was always part of the Hunger Games clique, and I hovered around the outside like I didn't belong. But we've always respected one another. Understood each other in a way the others don't. His hand squeezes my shoulder, and I finally exhale. I turn to look at him, and he just nods at me. We are family. We love the same people. I am not a Victor. I will never fully understand what goes on in their heads. But we are a unit, bound together by grief and horror and joy and love. After a moment, he pulls my head into his chest and I let myself go. Just for a moment. And then I compose myself, and we are silent the rest of the flight.

The hovercraft lands on the roof of a hospital in 4. Another medical crew is waiting for us, and Katniss is wheeled away in whirl or urgency and medical jargon I can't pretend to comprehend. Haymitch and I are brought to what will be her room. It's sterile and white and is drenched in that antiseptic hospital smell - like iodine and bleach. We talk quietly. What we know happened. What we think happened. He tells me Effie and Delly went with Peeta, but he hasn't heard from either since they left. We don't know if he's dead or alive. I assume the worst. He didn't look like he had long for this world, but he's pulled through insurmountable odds before. No one here seems to know anything about him. It's unfair, that I've finally bridged some ground with Peeta, and now he's taken away.

After hours of waiting, Paylor calls to give her regards and update me on Peeta. His injuries were too severe and he wasn't stable enough to make the trip to 4, so they routed him to 13. Katniss will not be pleased with that. I insist on speaking with the Mayor directly and Paylor patches me through. The Mayor assures me Peeta is under armed guard. It brings me little comfort, and I insist every doctor be screened. She agrees.

When Katniss is finally wheeled into her room, her mother is by her side. When she sees me Mrs. Everdeen wraps me in her arms. I squeeze her as tight as I can. She's always been a petite woman - not frail - but slight. I wonder if she might disappear in my embrace. I look at Katniss. She is in a crisp white hospital gown. She looks so small, so insignificant in that bed. Pale and weak. Not the girl I know who runs through the woods with sun-kissed cheeks and berry stains on her lips.

"She'll be alright, Gale," Mrs. Everdeen offers, seeing the fret in my brow. "She's recovering from surgery. She'll be out for hours." Haymitch and I finally let the tension seep from our bodies. Mrs. Everdeen wheels a chair next to her daughter's bed, and in short order she's asleep. I don't know how she can even think about sleep, but when I finally lean my back against the wall and slide down to the floor, I'm out in minutes. It's a restless slumber. My head bobs and I jerk awake, and then slip under again.

When Johanna finally arrives she wakes me unceremoniously, shaking my shoulders. She is a wreck, and I stand immediately and pull her into my arms. "What the hell happened, Gale?" she sobs into my chest. I can't make this better for her. "It's all over the news." She describes what I already knew happened. She had led some of the reporters on a wild goose chase in town, and was nowhere near the Village when everything went down. She missed the hovercraft and had to take the train out. I feel awful that she was alone, that I left her there. I'm a terrible husband.

I recount my story with shaky breath, and she just weaves her fingers in my hand. Her eyes dart up to mine, then down again, as she tries to process what I've told her.

"So they were shot? That's what the news is saying," Johanna asks.

"That's what it looked like," I reply. I don't really know, but Peeta was bleeding through and through. I've never seen blood like that.

"How is that possible? Some kind of hunting accident?" she says again.

"Katniss doesn't use guns to hunt. Someone must have followed them out to the woods." We are both silent for a bit. We think we know what happened, but we don't dare draw that conclusion. It makes us feel unsafe.

"I brought you some clothes," she says. I look down at my shirt, which is saturated with blood and vomit. I'd long since forgotten. I may be a horrible husband, but Johanna is a wonderful wife.

"There's a shower in the bathroom," Haymitch gestures. "Why don't you clean up?" I hadn't even realized he was still awake.

"Come on," Johanna encourages as she takes my hand. She pulls me inside the bathroom and latches the door behind us. The room is small, with just the basic necessities. I sit on the toilet lid, and Johanna stands in front of me. I press my head into her stomach, and she runs her hands up and down my back. When I look up at her, she reaches down to the seam of my shirt and pulls it over my head. She throws it in the garbage. Might as well. She turns on the faucet of the shower and steam fills the room. I stand and she pulls my pants from my body, and then the clothes from her own.

"Come on," she says again, and pulls me into the shower with her. I know this hurts. Every droplet on her skin hurts. Every bit of water makes her shudder, but she pushes that back and presses her body to mine. I sob into her shoulder and she squeezes me tighter. She washes my hair, runs soap over my body. She kisses my mouth, she rubs the tension from my shoulders. When she shuts the water off, she reaches for a towel and dries me off. I look at her. I really look at her. I love my wife.

"I did this for Katniss once," she whispers as she dries my hair. "I can't lose another sister," she chokes out. I pull her body into mine, and wrap my towel around both of us.

"You won't," I say. I rub her head with a towel until no more droplets fall from her damp locks. We change into fresh clothes, brush our teeth. Spit the taste of this day in the sink.

Paylor calls again with unpalatable news I can't quite process. Johanna and Haymitch head down to the cafeteria to get us food and give me space. I listen. I try to digest what she's telling me. I hang up and reclaim my spot in the corner. I sit there in the dark, listening to the buzz and whir of the machines, stewing. When I notice some movement in her bed, I raise my eyes and see Katniss is awake. She must be terrified. "Hey," I whisper as I slowly approach the bed. Tears are pouring down Katniss's face and she looks at me with desperation. Her hands claw at her throat. I know what my best friend needs.

"Let me wake your mom up and see if we can get that out now," I say gesturing to the tube. She nods her head furiously. I lean over Mrs. Everdeen, and shake her gently. When she sees Katniss is awake she rushes to her bedside.

"She wants to tube out. Can we do that?" I ask. She checks some levels on the machines.

"Yes," she nods. She prepares for the extraction and I look away. I hear Mrs. Everdeen count down, and Katniss sputter and cough. I wheeze involuntarily.

"Peeta…" Katniss chokes out. This I can help with. I take her hand and tell her he's in 13. She is in a sheer panic. I assure her he's safe, under armed guard and the careful watch of Effie and Delly. "You know Effie won't let them touch a hair on his head," I try to calm her down.

She nods slowly, and implores me with her eyes. Her mother steps in, explains Peeta's condition. I hear her tell Katniss about her own injuries, but Katniss's mind is in 13. It doesn't mean I don't hear. She's severely injured. She'll have trouble walking without therapy, and she may not be able to carry a child.

Katniss has told me a thousand times she never wants kids, but I don't believe her. There are some people who don't. But Katniss isn't one of them. The way she cared for Prim, the way she played with Posy, the way she protected Rue. She wants kids, she just can't bear the thought of losing one. She doesn't react to the news. She stares at a wall and ignores her mother. I can see a storm brewing underneath though, turbulent and painful.

Johanna returns with sandwiches in hand, and we all stand around awkwardly while Katniss processes that she may not be able to be a mother. Eventually Haymitch and I step out, leaving the girls to what they do. When I see her mom slip through the door and escape down the hall, I can't help but resent her cowardice. Johanna stays with Katniss. I see them in bed together, and it overwhelms me again. I love my wife. Haymitch and I wander the halls.

"This is my fault," he finally confesses. He hasn't spoken much since we arrived. I think if we lost Katniss or Peeta, we'd lose Haymitch for good too. He'd drink himself into oblivion. After everything he's fought for, to lose them like this? It's stupid. And tragic. And too much to handle.

"It's not, Haymitch," I say. I debate whether or not to do it, but I decide things are best in the open. I tell him what Paylor told me.

"Mitchell's wife? Are they sure?" he questions.

"Yeah," I say. The old Gale would blame Peeta, but I'm beyond that now. There is no blame here. This is a tragedy of war. The response of a desperate woman who felt incomplete, empty, broken, and alone without her person. I can only imagine what it would be like to lose my partner. I shudder.

That night, a hovercraft brings Peeta to 4. Katniss manages to stay awake for his arrival, but he's not sent to her room. He's brought straight up to surgery. Effie and Delly arrive, and after some catching up we all take up residence in Katniss's hospital room. There is an eerie resemblance to the vigil we held for Peeta after the tracker jacker sting. The nurses scold us, try to get Katniss to rest, but they don't know her. She throws a tray at the first nurse to suggest we leave, and the rest walk on eggshells around us. We are an intimidating crowd.

The wait is long. I take my spot on the floor again, but this time Johanna settles in between my legs. I rest my head on hers, breathe in the smell of hospital shampoo and home that drifts from our clothes. We stay this way for hours, awake and not, until finally a medical crew wheels Peeta in.

He's asleep, with machines clicking and buzzing at his side. He looks terrible, but he looks very much alive. We all rise. The girls surround him, a maternal, protective flock. I can see Katniss eyeing him desperately, imprisoned by her uncooperative body. Johanna and I meet eyes. She grabs a hold of Peeta's bed, and I take Katniss's. We push the two together, and relief overwhelms Katniss's face as pulls his hand into a vice grip. A nurse rushes in to chastise us, but Johanna gives her a well-practiced glare and she backs off. I look back at my best friend, and I think I see Peeta squeeze her hand. Our family is going to be okay.


	17. Chapter 32-33 - Johanna

**CHAPTERS 32-33 - JOHANNA**

When Peeta finally comes to, I feel like I can breathe again. We've had an agreement going for a while now. _You live, I live._ It got us through those moments in the dark of our cells, when one of us wanted to give up. Just wanted to let go and slip out of the pain. _You live, I live._ The medical staff removes the breathing tube and after gagging and hacking, Peeta finally smiles at us. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Gale grin.

We file out one by one, each squeezing Peeta's hand or tousling his hair on the way by. I try to catch Katniss's eye, but she is absorbed in Peeta.

The nurses removed all the furniture from the waiting room across the hall and wheeled in cots. Effie throws a discerning eyes over the sleeping arrangements, but considering she spent the last week in a chair, she chooses not to complain. Delly and Effie duck into our single bathroom and begin preening like robins at a bird bath. I enter behind them, drop my pants, and pee.

"Johanna Mason! Are you…?" A look of horror overcomes Effie's face. "Are you urinating?!"

I give her a charming smile, and she shrieks and flees from the room. Through the paper-thin wall I hear Haymitch chortling and Effie crying, "Don't laugh, you will only encourage her!"

I flush the toilet and join Delly at the sink. She watches me in fascination as I crank the faucet as hard as it will go, lather my hands with soap and run them under water. It took a long time to get to a place where I could wash my hands. I'm proud of myself, but Delly seems to be looking at me like I've grown two heads. After I dry my hands meticulously with the rough, cotton hospital towel, I turn to face her. I reach around behind her and grab one of the spare toothbrushes and stick it in my mouth.

"So… you and watermelon boy, eh?"

A blush rushes across her porcelain cheeks, and Delly smiles sheepishly and nods. I take the toothpaste from the edge of the sink. I don't realize right away there is a foil seal over the top, and I squeeze and push until the toothpaste explodes and shoots into Delly's golden ringlets.

"Oh!" I exclaim involuntarily, and it's silent for a moment as we stare at each other, my face frozen with my mouth around the "oh." Delly's mouth breaks into a huge smile, and she begins laughing uncontrollably. Tears stream down her cherubic cheeks, and it takes a moment for me to break out of my stance before I join her. I like Delly.

Effie dashes in and absorbs the scene – me, with a busted tube of toothpaste guiltily messed all over my hands, and Delly, with a head full of spearmint.

"You didn't! Johanna Mason, get out of this room this instant!"

I stick my finger in Delly's hair and scoop out a large clump of toothpaste and stick it on my brush before I skip out of the room. Delly, ever the optimist, enumerates on the many benefits of mint on hair vitality while Effie frets at it with a wet paper towel. Across the hall I see Katniss resting her head on the arm rails of Peeta's bed, and I close our door to give them some privacy.

I push my cot in next to Gale's and settle in for the evening. For the first time in days, we know everyone from our family is okay. The room slips into rest. Haymitch's dreadful snoring reverberates in my brain, and I wonder how anyone on the entire floor will sleep. Effie took some sleeping pills and is out cold on the cot next to him. Delly is curled up in the corner. She has her hand tucked under her cheek and a peaceful calm cast across her face. Her flaxen hair falls gently onto the pillow, and she lies still. Even sleeping she looks like an angel.

"Are you awake?" I whisper, and Gale squeezes my hand from behind me.

"How could I not be?" he whispers back.

I roll on my side to face him. His dark hair is shaggy in his eyes. He takes his palm and rests it on my cheek. His hands are huge. I love how masculine and large he is… his strapping shoulders, his height. I'll never admit it aloud, but he makes me feel… feminine. I've never been a particularly girly girl. I'm not Delly. But resting here, next to him… I can relax. We whisper much of the night. Catching up, laughing, confiding. Eventually we doze off, hands locked between us.

The next morning, Annie comes to visit and I'm thrilled. I rush into the room and wrap my arms around her. I squeeze her hard until she says she can't breathe, and when I put her down her pale skin is flushed pink. Her sea green eyes smile brightly back at me. Eventually Katniss drifts off to sleep, and it's just me, Peeta, and Annie. We all sit on his bed. Annie tells us about Finn. She struggles over the parts marred by Finnick's absence. The year has held a lot of "firsts" as Annie calls them. First birthday without Finnick. First Tide Festival without Finnick. First swim without Finnick. Every time one of these firsts passes, he feels a little farther away. Like she's lost him even more. Like he's truly gone. Finn's firsts are hard to deal with, too. First steps and Finnick's not there. First tooth. First haircut. Annie bats tears from her eyes. "Maybe the seconds will be easier, next year," she says. I take one of her hands and Peeta takes the other. We laugh too. She tells us about Finn catching a baby sea turtle and carrying it out to the water. She beams with pride over her son's empathy. "So like Finnick," she says.

Katniss's physical therapy regimen is worked out. It's going to take weeks, but I'm going to get that girl back on her feet. Back in 13, when things were hard… she got me through that. She never judged me. She just looked at me – really looked at me. I go with her to therapy every day. At first, the therapists ask me to leave, but one simultaneous glare from two Victors, and they stop protesting. I try to keep it light, keep her mind off the dark parts of this. Focus her on moving forward. She struggles in the beginning, but I coach her through it. Push, release. Balance, strength. We do stretches, she walks with her fingertips laced with mine. I can't help but remember lacing my fingertips with Peeta's in the Capitol. I perch on my toes, I keep her head up. She improves.

One night, Annie takes the family out to experience "the real 4." She tells us about a local spot where they play music, and you can eat salty seafood and drink salty liquor and dance until your skin is covered in a salty sweat. I feel guilty leaving Katniss and Peeta behind, but from the look in their eyes, I think they want some time alone.

Annie lends me a blouse. It's white and flows away from my tanned skin with the slightest movement. When Gale sees me in it, his jaw drops ever so slightly. Haymitch, Effie, and Delly join us, and Annie leads the way. The open air tavern is about a 30 minute walk from the hospital. There is sand everywhere in 4, and Effie struggles with her heels. Finally, Haymitch hitches her up onto his back and carries her while she berates him, blushing furiously.

We hear the music before we get there. While the instruments in 9 and 12 are mostly strings, the brassy sound of a trumpet pierces the night. Annie eagerly pulls us to the dance floor. The instruments sing, and we shake and sway and shimmy all the anxiety of the last few weeks from our bodies. Haymitch and Effie, normally so reserved and discreet in their affection, kiss sensually as they sway to a slow song. Gale brings me and Annie shots of a gold liquor, which taste salty and sweet at the same time. My senses alight. Delly bounces from patron to patron, giggling and smiling and making friends. I sit on a bar stool and watch Annie and Gale dance. When the song is over, Gale swoops over to me and pulls me into a long kiss. He dips his tongue into my mouth. I come up for air dizzy and flirty. I didn't wear a bra, and I can see Gale's eyes linger on my nipples, hard and protruding under the light fabric.

"Excuse me," I say as I push away from the bar. I walk toward the beach and count in my head. In less than a minute, Gale has caught up to me. The music from the bar slows. We are barely within reach of the lights cascading down the beach. Gales pulls me into his arms and we sway. He slides one hand up the back of my shirt so it rests on the skin of my back. It's intimate, but not in a jump your bones kind of way. Gale and I do plenty of that, but it's these moments, these quiet ones – his hand on my skin, my body against his. It's these moments where we love each other. We dance alone, in the dark, to a slow, sultry melody.

Back at the bar, I drink at least 3 more of the gold liquor shots before Gale is dragging me home. I sing. I skip. The night is warm, the air tastes like salt and the breeze cools my feverish skin. The street tilts and Gale grabs my arm to keep me steady. The woosh of the hospital doors opening makes me giggle, and the freezing cold air makes everything stand on end. We walk clumsily back to our room.

I swing inside and decide it's time for bed immediately. Now. I pull myself up and try to crawl under the covers, but the bed is lumpy and squirming. I hear Peeta laughing and wonder why he's in my bed.

"Woah, Johanna… we are sleeping in the waiting room, remember?" Gale coaches.

"Oh yeah…" I slur and grab his shirt and pull him into my mouth. I kiss him hard, with energy, but the room tilts again and my balance shifts. Before I can protest, Gale lifts me over his shoulder. The spinning only intensifies, and I kick at him to put me down. I hear him mutter something to Peeta, and he closes the door behind us and crosses the hall. Haymitch is already snoring on a cot. Effie sleeps beside him, fully dressed. Delly already slipped into a cotton nightgown. She grins at me as Gale plops me on my cot. I snarl at her, which only elicits a laugh. I'm losing my touch.

Gale pushes his cot next to mine, the metal grating and screeching on the tile floor. I cover my ears, and he crawls in beside me. There's not room for two, but he presses my back to his chest. The room spins, and I fall asleep.


	18. Chapter 35 - Peeta

**CHAPTER 35 - PEETA**

Over the next few months, Katniss and I settle into a comfortable routine. We've found what our life will be. We both are early risers – I bake, she hunts. She comes home ravenous, and I set out food and cold water for her. On chilly mornings, I pack her a thermos of tea. On Sundays she hunts with Gale, and I spend the mornings attempting to bake around Johanna. Most she just steals bites of sugar and berries while we talk, but it's our Sunday tradition. Delly moves to Skyler's watermelon farm. Katniss mopes around for days. I can't help but find it adorable.

Our physical relationship is insatiable. For every word Katniss struggles to say, she makes up in loving me. We make love, we experiment, we fuck, we laugh, we play, we wrap ourselves together in every way a couple can. It's fun. It's exciting. Each time we finish, as we lay there panting and drenched and tangled, she's gets quiet and reflective. Her fingers twirl in my hair, her nails gently scratch my scalp. She's thoughtful. When I dare to look up at her, she always has this soft half smile resting on her lips. Katniss looks content. And free. One morning, after we've made love on the floor of the bathroom, she catches me gazing at her, and a smile creeps across her face.

"What are you thinking about?" I ask, propping myself up on my elbows, my stomach still pressed to hers.

"I think this would have happened anyway. Without the Games. Without the rebellion. I think you would have found me."

I pull myself up and place a soft kiss on her lips. Noiseless. Still. "I will always find you."

I sketch plans for the bakery, but it feels like an impossible feat. Nothing is ever right, or good enough. I erase and retrace, I rip pages out and throw them across the room. I remember the old bakery to every minute detail. It's so frustrating that there are hours, days, weeks of my life I cannot reassemble, but I remember where the broken floorboard was in the back corner. What I want is my bakery. The bakery my family had for generations. Each "improvement" I etch feels like a betrayal. Finally, one night, I remember my dad saying he wished the brick oven had been where the steel oven was. The heat from the open fire made the sweat drip from his body. "If I could just snap my fingers and that oven moved to the back wall, I'd do it." I take my blueprint and move the brick oven to the back wall. I feel relief. The rest comes easier after that.

Winter is perfectly ordinary. Johanna and Gale have to go the Capitol for the Senate's four-week winter session. They return without announcement on the eve of a blizzard, and ambush Katniss and me in a barrage of snowballs as we walk home from Town. It was foolish to think anyone could beat Katniss in a game where the weapon requires precision and aim. She destroys them. I'd like to say I helped, but mostly I prepped snowballs as she let them fly.

Soaked and frozen, we all clunk our way into the Everlark house. It's the pet name Katniss made up for our home, and I can't help but smile whenever she says it. Clothes are stripped and pajamas are donned. The fire roars cheerfully and I treat our guests to hot cocoa. As the storm picks up, we decide Gale and Johanna should stay the night. Johanna's hair has grown, and Katniss braids it down her back. I make dinner while Katniss and Gale add a page in the book about making snow angels with Prim. I sneak a peek and watch Gale push Katniss's knee in jest. She sticks her tongue out at him. This is our new normal.

Spring comes too soon. We made a deal with Plutarch to film the groundbreaking of the bakery, and I regret it as I feel the earth thaw. When the day finally arrives, I'm a wreck. My fingers tremble as I try to knot the tie around my neck.

"Here, let me," Katniss says. I sit on the edge of the bed and she stands over me, wrapping my tie into a knot and pulling it tight. This girl never ceases to amaze me.

"Where'd you learn to do that?" I ask.

"Finnick," she says back, with a bittersweet melancholy in her tone. My chest seizes a little, and I wrap my arms around her waist, resting my head on her stomach. This day is too much.

"I don't know that I can do this," I confess to the room. Katniss doesn't say anything. She just runs her fingers through my hair. She doesn't need to give me false platitudes. The day is not going to be easy. She doesn't even need to say she loves me. She shows me. Her fingers slowly draw circles in my scalp. I breathe in deeply and exhale through an open mouth. If I could freeze this moment, I would, but Katniss's prep team grandly bursts into the room, and the intimate moment with my person is overtaken with squeals and laughter.

I'm normally congenial, friendly, outgoing, but I can't focus. The prep team flits in and out around us. I grasp Katniss's hand in mine and close my eyes. I immediately regret the decision as I see my prep team, crumpled on the floor in a pool of blood and vomit in front of me. I see Portia, her chin trembling, but the resolve in her eyes without falter. I see a blade, and suddenly the sound of snipping and slicing pulls me back to reality. A pair of scissors flutters meticulously around my face. I tighten every muscle in my body and try to breathe through it. Even with my eyes open, I see Portia's tears drip to the floor. Fingers sticky with cream are run through my hair, bronzer added to my face, and after an eternity the prep team leaves.

Katniss knows I'm not ready to face downstairs. She doesn't ask me to talk about it. She just sweeps my hair off the floor and wastes time around the room. She waits for me to give her a look, and when I do she reaches out her hand. I take it in my own and we head downstairs.

Cressida and Pollux both hug Katniss. She keeps her hand anchored in mine. I've always felt a little on guard around them. They didn't know me before. Cressida greets me warmly, and Pollux offers a hand. I try to relax.

"Ready for your big day?" Cressida asks.

"I don't think I'll ever be ready," I reply.

We head to the site of the bakery. They've cleared the rubble. There's nothing left of my family here, just dirt and dust. I stand there, with Katniss, and finally, I let myself breathe. And then I feel him. My dad. Here, but not here. Suddenly I know what Katniss means when she says she feels her father at the lake. That she feels Rue in the trees. I feel my dad, and the tension just slips away from me.

Katniss's hand trembles in my own, the cameras setting her on edge. I rub the back of her hand with my thumb and smile reassuringly at her.

Cressida is finished setting up, and indicates to Katniss she's ready to get started. Katniss's anxiety heightens as the cameras focus on her, and she nods slows. I squeeze her hand as I whisper, "I'm right here."

Sensing the strain, Cressida directs the first question at me.

"How does it feel to be out here, about to break ground on the new bakery?"

I take a breath. I feel my dad. I feel my brothers. I feel them, here but not here. And I speak. "I won't lie, it's not easy. Surviving isn't easy. Being the one left behind isn't easy. But I'm not alone. We are all survivors, whether we fought in the rebellion, or lost someone to the cause, or were victimized ourselves. We are all survivors, and we are going to recover together. We will move forward together. My parents lost their lives on this spot. My brothers did as well. I'm not going to lie and say I don't feel that pain here. But I also feel their presence, and I'll feel them even stronger when I'm kneading dough, and making cookies, and using recipes passed down through generations of Mellarks. My family is not here physically, but I feel them in the air. I smell my dad in the cinnamon. I hear my brothers when a pan crashes to the floor."

Here, but not here. Katniss squeezes my hand.

I continue. "I hope maybe someday, I can teach one of my children how to make snowflake cookies, and icing that melts on your tongue. And I can't do that unless I have courage, get through the hard part, and rebuild the bakery." I worry about what I said. I should have put Katniss's feelings first. I shouldn't have said anything about kids on television, but I don't feel her tense. I don't feel her panic. I don't feel her run.

Cressida asks Katniss how the Games changed her. The War. She's quiet for a while, and I feel her brain churning. Katniss has never thought she was any good with words, but she's anything but inarticulate. When she does start talking, it's quiet. "I lost myself," she confesses in a whisper, closer to a prayer. She talks about her sister. Losing her. Finding her again, in tiny moments of grief. Loving her, holding her, setting her free. It wasn't the War that changed Katniss. Not the Games. It was Prim. Prim taught her to love freely. To accept kindness. To pay it back. And so we grow together. Those of us left behind. We find peace.

I wrap her in my arms and we hold each other for a minute. We don't look at the cameras. We just be. We break away after a while, and Haymitch hands me a spade. Katniss lets me go, but stays at my side, as I break ground on the bakery. There is cheering, applause. It swims in my head, and I smile. I feel my dad here.

That night is the Spring festival. The entire district celebrates. They drink and eat and dance. The music feels alive, pulsing and beating between us. We are among hundreds, but it feels like just us. Just me and Katniss. We dance. We hold hands. We kiss. The night gets cold, but I feel on fire next to her. We duck into an alley away from the crowd, exhausted and dizzy from dancing, and desperate for a moment alone.

"Do I have anything to be sorry about?" I ask. "For what I said earlier? About kids?"

"No," she smiles into my mouth as she brings her lips to mine. And my heart sings.


	19. Outtake - Peeta

OUTTAKE - PEETA

 _This outtake occurs sometime in the winter mentioned in the preceding chapter, so before the bakery opens, while Gale & Johanna are still away at the Senate._

Katniss trudges in from a cold winter hike in the woods. She doesn't hunt much in the winter, but she still goes out to the woods at least once a week. She covers pieces of stale bread with peanut butter and seeds and hangs them in the trees for the winter birds. Sometimes she'll bring home a buck if she notices the deer are getting too thin, but for the most part she leaves them alone once the ground is frozen. On this day, frigid air invades the kitchen as she whisks in, clapping off the snow built up on her winter boots. She likes hiking in the snow. She says it makes her muscles burn, and she feels alive. Gale's been gone for weeks, and I can tell she misses him out there with her, but she's never been one to say no to the solitude of the trees.

"Hey," she says to me, a bit out of breath. Her cheeks and nose are bright red, her skin frosty against my warm, calloused hands.

"Hey," I say back, cupping her face and pressing my lips to hers. She told me once that when I kiss her and she's cold like this, my lips almost feel like they are burning her – but in a good way. Like every feeling of my skin against hers is fiery, and she wants to chase it. "I made a roast," I tell her, gesturing toward the oven, but she ignores me, her lips leaving frostbites across my neck, and her teeth gently pinching my skin. A knot in my stomach twists in all the right ways.

"Warm me up," she begs with her eyes, which flit up to mine, stone gray and steady. She slides her hands under my shirt and up my back. They are like ice and shivers shoot up my spine, but I pull her in tight, willing my body heat into her. She unbuttons my shirt hurriedly and tugs her own over her head. She cozies herself inside my open shirt, her chest bare against mine. I pull the flannel of my shirt around her back.

"You're always like a furnace," Katniss says, tracing her lips gently across my collarbone. I remember the first time she said that to me.

 _Katniss had me stay the night in her room last night, and we slept, both of us slept, for the first time since the Arena. Now, as night falls and the train surges forward, we linger on the couch, long after Haymitch and Effie have dismissed themselves to bed. We talk for hours. She tells me the real story behind how she got Lady the goat. I tell her about Rye cheating on his school finals and getting caught. She laughs and her eyes meet mine. We are quiet, and just look at each other for a while._

 _Katniss is guarded still. She doesn't quite know what she's doing, and I'm okay with that. I've always been good at waiting. I can see she's struggling with the words, not sure if she should say what she's trying to say. I know what I want her to say._

 _"Come to my room with me?" she finally spits out. I nod yes and try to play it cool. It's not a big deal. She just can't sleep. When we reach her room she's nervous. She paces back and forth a bit._

 _"I don't have to stay the night," I offer. "How about I just stay until you fall asleep?"_

 _"Umm.. yeah, okay," she concedes. Katniss changes into pajamas in her bathroom, and comes back into the room in matching top and bottoms. She catches me staring at them. "Cinna," she says. "He made me a pair for every night of the tour. It's ridiculous, really. Who needs 30 pairs of pajamas?" She rambles when she's nervous. It's adorable. I catch her chewing the inside of her cheek, and try to calm her down._

 _"Do you mind if I open this?" I ask, pointing to the window._

 _"Oh, yeah, go ahead," she waves, and I pull it open a few inches. The cool, night air billows in and cuts some of the tension in the room._

 _"I used to have a trick when I was a kid, trying to fall asleep," I say. She crawls under the covers of her bed, and I sit on top of them, my back to the headboard. Katniss rests her head on my chest, and I hope she can't hear my heart thud like a madman beneath my breastbone. Even having her near me makes me body ache._

 _"What was your trick?" she asks._

 _"I'd convert measurements in my head." Katniss props herself up to look me in the eye quizzically._

 _"Here, I'll show you," I offer, and she lays her head back down. "3 teaspoons equal 1 tablespoon." I hear her chuckle when she realizes what I mean. "I never said it was interesting," I defend myself. "I said it was sleep-inducing."_

 _"I like it," she says. "Keep going." I feel her nestle into me, and my heart pulls back to the cave. The first time she curled into me._

 _"4 tablespoons equal a quarter of a cup. 5 tablespoons and 1 teaspoon equal a third of a cup."_

 _"Well now you're just getting crazy," she teases, and I feel the tension drift away, along with her wakefulness. I unknot her braid with my fingers._

 _"2 cups equal one 1 pint. 2 pints equal 1 quart." Her breathing steadies and I continue on for a while, even though I know she's not awake._

 _"One stick of butter is a half a cup. Raw sugar weighs more than caster sugar, which weighs more than confectioner. Dad always has me weigh those instead of measure by volume." She sleeps for about an hour before I pull myself from the bed. I go to close the window and still have my fingers on the ledge when I hear Katniss speak from behind me._

 _"I'm cold without you. You're like a furnace."_

 _"Don't worry, I'll close the window before I go," I say, throwing smile back her way._

 _"Leave it," she says, her tone serious._

 _"Okay," I answer before I give her a glance goodnight and head for the door. My hand grasps the knob when her words stop me._

 _"Peeta?" I turn back to her. "Stay with me?"_

 _"Always." This time I crawl under the covers._

I remember that night so well. She weaved her fingers in my hand while she slept. It was so intimate. Yet comfortable. Like her hand was meant to fit in mine. That memory has never been shiny.

Sometimes, when I think back to those nights on the train, or even the nights alone in my house after the first Games… I can't believe I'm finally here with her. Her naked torso pushed up against mine. Her lips, soft and rough at the same time, kissing and nipping at my jawline. She runs her tongue where my pulse is hammering in my neck, and I feel myself grow hard against her. Katniss smiles against my cheek.

"Well hello," she whispers, and slides her hand down. Her body is no longer cool to the touch. Her skin is on fire pressed against mine. Her hand runs along my length outside my pants, and I feel my legs tremble at her touch. Everything is tightening and pulsing, and the excitement only surges as she pulls at my belt until my pants drop to my ankles. We're still standing, wrapped in my shirt, and I feel her push me back against the kitchen counter.

I gulp as her lips trace their way past my throat, down my chest, and dance on the sensitive skin of my lower stomach. I bite my lip as she looks up at me, locking her eyes with mine before she takes me in her mouth. I feel a grunt escape my lthroat, and her lips smile around me. At first she's slow and sensuous, drawing her tongue along me and dragging her lips in a way that makes my eyes flee into the back of my head. But when she feels me react, she speeds up, her hand joining in the race as she pushes me further and further until I can't feel or see or think of anything but the waves of ecstasy overtaking my body. I slide down the counter and join her on the floor, my legs giving out like jelly.

"You," I say as a grin at her. "Are _not_ as innocent as you pretend to be."

"I don't pretend to be anything," she says, pressing her mouth to mine. "I'm done pretending." She climbs onto my lap and kisses me slowly. She's saying stay. She's saying I love you. She's saying be with me.

I sit up with her hips still on mine and push her back onto the floor. Seeing the look in my eyes, she unbuttons her pants and together we slide them off her legs. Her hands cling to the floor as my mouth makes the same journey hers did earlier - kissing her jawline, savoring her breasts, kneading her hip bone, until she's rocking against the hardwood floor. I put my mouth on her, and she instantly clenches all the muscles in her body. She moans out, and it only drives me wild. I find the spot that surges her forward and caress it with my tongue. She squirms and knots her fingers in my hair, vocal and loud and vibrant. Her hips buck up into me and I pin her waist to the ground. This seems to send her into more of a fit, and she tugs and pulls at my hair, moaning while my tongue moves in circles around her core.

When she's right on the precipice, I pull myself up and plunge inside her. She is hot and wet and tight, and her body clenches around me. Katniss bites her lip and groans as she pulls herself up and pushes me back into the counter. Straddling me like she did before, she begins to ride me in earnest. Her hips find a rhythm with mine, and it's like we are dancing, in a primal, dirty kind of way. I can't get enough of her. My hand drifts down, and I find the spot again. I begin to rub her and she clutches onto me, her mouth falling slightly ajar. I pull her bottom lip into my mouth, and I feel her breathe into me. We don't talk a lot when we're together like this. Katniss wants to let her body do the talking, and I can't complain.

She shifts her hips and suddenly I'm very deep inside her. Every part of me is touching part of her. We've never been this close. I know she feels it too, as her eyes lock on mine and refuse to part. She wants to watch me. She loves to watch me. She thrusts into me the way I like, and I slam my body back against the counter. My fingers move fast, and I insist she comes along. Everything begins to tighten and I feel her begin to shake. My eyes want to close but I force them to stay open, glued to hers. I am there, feeling that incredible release, and I feel her body ride through it with me, eyes locked with mine. She shakes and moans, and finally when we are both exhausted and glad, she drops onto my chest and rests her head there for a while. She listens to my heart pound then slow. I listen to her breath pant then steady.

She leans forward and presses a soft quiet kiss to my lips.

"I'm warm now."


	20. Chapter 36 - Peeta

**CHAPTER 36 - PEETA**

I spend much of the next few months helping with the bakery. It feels more mine, knowing I hammered the floorboards into place. As the frame mounts, the walls come up, I feel like my life is falling into place. Like I'm finally able to move forward. It's funny, because in a way I'm moving backward – back to the bakery, back to my childhood, but it's a forward kind of backward. I don't know. It makes sense to me. I try to explain it to Katniss one night, and she smiles at me. I don't have to make sense to make sense to her.

Katniss seems to have found a peaceful existence, too. She's always been a quiet girl, but there is tranquility there. I'll come downstairs and find her lying on the front porch, her back against the wooden slats of the deck, breathing in the night. The smell of coal has started to fade, and the scent of flowers and plants and life fill her senses. She writes Prim letters, and then burns them. She watches the smoke dissipate in the sky and stares up at the stars. She imagines her words finding her way to her little sister, carried in ash. She's happy.

It happens one night in early summer. I'm exhausted from a day of laboring the bakery. Katniss and I eat chicken in a sweet, sticky glaze. I lick the remnants off my fingers and make my way to bed early. Katniss rubs the knots out of my back, and one thing leads to another. Something feels different. I'm holding her in my arms when she shatters, and I surge into her. I feel her shake softly as she melts into me. "I love you," she exhales. She doesn't say it a lot. But when she does, it feels like the air is sucked from the room. Like the lights are burning brightly. Like everything in my world is buzzing.

"I love you, too." I press my sweaty mouth against hers and we collapse on the bed. I fall asleep on top of the sheets, my arm draped across her back, my face nuzzled in her neck. The sky is dark. Our house is quiet. Hours slip by.

"Peeta," I hear Katniss whisper.

"Hmmm?" I ask, without opening my eyes. I'm not awake yet.

She says something, but I'm drifting off again. My muscles are begging me to sleep. My brain is adrift in one of those beautiful, dreamless nights when all that envelopes me is Katniss's scent and her skin on mine.

"Mmhmmm…" I nod, and drift back out.

"Peeta!" She shakes my shoulder and I prop myself up, forcing my eyes open.

"Hey, you okay?" I ask softly as I rub my eyes. She must have had a nightmare. I rest a hand on her face, and I display a quiet concern.

"Marry me," Katniss says. I'm still dreaming. I try to pull myself here. She needs me. I force my sleep-drunken eyes to focus on her face. "Peeta. Marry me."

No. She really said that. "Are you serious?" I ask, grabbing her hands. Did she say that? She wouldn't. Would she?

"Of course I'm serious," she says, squeezing my hands in reassurance. And just like that, my heart explodes.

"Woo hoo!" I cry out into the night. I'm sure everyone in Victor's Village heard that, asleep or not. I bounce up, energy boiling over. I cannot contain what I'm feeling. Katniss wants to be with me. Not just with me, but with me. Forever. My lips are all over her, each spot they find soft and salty and feverish. I sit up on my knees, grab her legs, and pull her into me. I wrap my arms around her and press my chest into hers. "I will marry you every day for the rest of my life if you want me to." I kiss her shoulder, her collar bone. My lips linger lazily as I trail down her chest. She sighs and falls into me.

She is my family. She is my everything.

"Peeta," she whispers, and I fight back tears. I want to hear her say my name a million times before I die. I want my name to feel familiar in her mouth. I want her to whisper my name, and scream my name, and sing my name. "I want to get married now. Tonight." My heart pounds in my chest and I pull my eyes to hers. Her eyes glisten with tears. This room is emanating joy.

"I'd have married you in kindergarten if you'd let me. I don't want to wait any longer either," I say.

She stands up and wraps the white sheet around her body, and she has never been so beautiful. She's always outside, and her skin is kissed with sun. Her hair is tussled and sweeps across her shoulders. I grab some pajama pants from the dresser and rush down the stairs, taking them two at a time. I hear Katniss in the living room, crumpling paper and lighting a match. _This is really happening. This is really happening._ That girl in there wants to marry me. The one who sang the Valley Song. The one whose life has been woven into mine like a reckless quilt, in and out.

I pull a serrated knife from the block on the counter and slice a piece off the loaf from this morning. It's filled with nuts and raisins. I recognize this bread. It's the bread that blackened my eye. It's the bread that saved her life.

I walk into the living room. Katniss has cracked open a window, and a soft breeze chases its way through our home. The sheet billows around her like a sail on a mast, and she takes my breath away. I join Katniss in front of the fire, my heart in my throat. We just sit there for a moment, silent, taking in the moment. We have so many difficult memories – of being pulled apart, of death, of burning… of saying goodbye. These happy moments need to be cherished. We may be young, but we know that. These happy moments are what you live for. And so I cherish her. I cherish this home. Our home. I cherish the smell of the dry wood, cracking in the fire. I cherish the look in her eyes as she smiles at a white rock Prim perched on the hearth. I cherish the feeling of the heat, pulsing against my face in waves. I remember burning with her. I remember the flames engulfing our bodies, yet here we are again – fire and bread.

I take her hand in mine. It's tiny and strong and delicate all at the same time. I want to tell her I love her, that I will always be here for her, that I never felt complete until she pressed her mouth to mine. But this should be wordless. This vow should be our hearts promising things to each other. We know what this means.

I tear the bread in half and hand her a piece. Her first, then me. I watch as she holds it to the fire. I do the same. She lifts the bread to my mouth and I take it. Her fingers linger on my lips, and I bring my charred bread to hers. She takes it from me, and the two of us sit there for a moment – quiet and still. The promises between us hang in the air the way snowflakes catch in Katniss's dark hair in a winter flurry.

In the air, without words, we make promises. Be with me. Here with me. Our house. Our home. Our life. Our love – thoughtful yet rash, hurried yet late, passionate yet serene. Our love.

"Peeta," Katniss breathes. I lift an eyebrow at her. "Stay with me."

I bring my mouth to hers and kiss her like she's made of porcelain. Delicate. Still.

And I whisper the only promise that's ever mattered to us. "Always."


	21. Thank You

Thank you so much for reading We Face Our Fears!

Love and thanks to my loyal readers & reviewers - jroseley, stjohn27, and sunsetorangegirl. You three make my day!

I told myself that We Seemed Like a Good Idea would be my only FanFic, and then I did this one...

Well, I have an idea for another. I'd like to do my own take on the Victory Tour. So... favorite me as an author if you want to get updates.


End file.
